#just blow up the field spell

[watertribe-enya]

ygo5dsmonth-week 2022 Day 4 - Red and Purple

“My brother’s body hosted two birthmarks - one Signer one Dark Signer. And so the Dark Signer birthmark took action, in attempts to totally seize my brother.“

So what if Rudger got rid off the the arm with the Dark Signer birthmark instead? Which might have been kinda hard, since the thing was starting to mind control him. But the Crimson Dragon’s power really should have helped then instead of waiting idly, the thing must have picked him as it’s first Signer for a reason. Makes me kinda wonder if Ancient Fairy Dragon was supposed to be Rudger’s dragon, since it was the one card that was left with him. And the one dragon that was dragged off by the spider...

Anyway his decision was probably hard to explain to the people around him, since there were actually people around this time, unlike the canon 5D’s timeline.

@ygo5dsmonth-week

[ellatoone7]

❄︎ Retirement ready ❄︎

Alexia's favourite girls series

Alexia is more than ready to spend all her time with her girls

You were incredibly surprised at how well Alexia had been taking her retirement. Of all the ways you imagined this moment it was always more dramatic, but your wife seemed to be at peace as she walked out of the tunnel for the last time. 

The crowd absolutely erupted as she lined up as Captain for the last time. Isabella was standing on her chair with her Putellas jersey proudly displayed on her back. Emilia watched with wide eyes as the place chanted her Mami’s name. “Mami sad?” Emilia asked with tears in her eyes, “No sweetheart, mamí is happy.” The younger blonde doesn’t seem so sure, “You know what this means? Mami is going to have so much more time to play with you and bring you to school.” Emilia lit up at the thought of more mamí time. 

Alba was sitting next to you, not having too much care for football but she loved her sister dearly, so she put up with it. “You think she’s sad Alb’s? Do you think this is right thing for her to do? I don’t want her to resent anything.” Alba scoffed amusedly as she gently patted you swollen stomach, “Have you seen the way she acts when she’s with her daughters? I mean there could be a Champions league final that she’s supposed to play but if one of those little girls asked her to stay at home, she wouldn’t be able to even spell football.” 

You looked back at the pitch as Alexia’s eyes roamed the stadium in search of something. You smiled curiously until you saw her eyes absolutely light up when she catches sight of her family. Isabella nearly falls of her chair as she blows Alexia a kiss for it to be reciprocated immediately. Emilia reached out her arms for her and you see the longing in your wife’s eyes as she subtly reached out too. 

Then her eyes fell onto you as she stared up at you with so much adoration. With a soft ‘Te amo’ and a kiss to her ring she disappeared down the tunnel for halftime. Alba stared at you with a cocky smile as you gently shouldered with a giggle. 

“Abuela! Look at my jersey!” Emilia shouted over the noise as she showed Eli her brand-new custom-made jersey that she had showed just about everyone with eyes. Eli cooed as she kissed both of her cheeks and offered to take both girls to get ice cream. 

Alexia was on cloud nine as she entered the dressing room. She was beyond excited to hang up her boots and throw herself into her family. “Ay amiga, No parezcas muy feliz.” Mapí threw her arm around her shoulder with a giggle as she pressed a kiss to her best friend’s cheek. Ingrid had retired a few weeks ago as they too had a little boy and girl. Mapí was going to stay for another month before she joins them. Irene had retired the season before and was sitting by her family. 

“No puedo evitarlo. Mi Familia…” Mapí just hugged her tighter as she nodded softly. “No puedo creer que nos abandones.” A voice from behind the two friends had Alexia grinning as she slightly shoved her ‘adopted’ daughters, “Como si vosotros dos no vinierais al menos tres veces a la semana.” Pina giggled while agreeing while Jana hugged her Captain. 

“Vamos a ganar este partido para la reina!” A victorious chant was let out as the girls made their way down the tunnel. “Vamos amiga!” Mapí grinned as she took her hand and led her down to the field. The second half flashed by with Alexia scoring her last ever goal and immediately dedicating it to her daughters and her wife. 

“Mama! We met Auntie Leah and Less. They came to see Mami’s game!” Emilia squealed as she waved at her English ‘aunts’. Emilia had gotten lost when she was just two years old when Alexia had turned her back for two seconds. It was at the Emirates, and it just so happened that Alexia wanted to bring her family on a holiday straight after. Luckily Leah had been roaming around to check the field one more time before tomorrow when she spotted the little girl. 

She recognised her straight away from Kiera and Lucy’s constant rambling at how cute their Captains’ daughters were. Leah told the two-year-old that she knew her mamí and could bring her to her which Emilia immediately agreed too. Alexia was losing her absolute mind as she had the whole team frantically searching for Emilia. Leah had finally found the Spanish Captain and they were fast friends after that. 

Alexia and Leah’s friendship was teasingly competitive yet very entertaining to everybody, but Alexia was eternally grateful to Leah for that day and Emilia had imprinted on her. You gave Leah a wave and she sent you a playful wink before focusing on the game at hand. 

The final whistle blew, and you were waiting for your wife to break down but the smile that nearly split her face was extremely welcome too. Alexia immediately ran to the barriers as you slowly made your way down, Alba had taken Emilia and Isabella ahead of you, so you didn’t trip and fall with their excitement. “Mi bébé’s!” Emilia reached her arm down but pouted and whines as she couldn’t reach her mamí. 

Alexia and Alba shared amused looks as the girl tried to reach again. Alba with the help of Irene had lifted Isabella over the barrier and into Alexia’s awaiting arms. “Hola Is! Did you enjoy the game!” Isabella hugged her tightly, “Sí, Mami your goal was incredible.” Alexia kissed her cheek before setting her down to catch her other daughter. Jana and Pina had already kidnapped Isabella as they chased her around. 

After Emilia was safely in Alexia’s arms did, she smile again. She gave her mamí a kiss as she snuggled into her neck, “Mama said you will have mucho time to play now!” Alexia giggled as she threw the blonde into the air, “You will be sick of me mi princesa!” Emilia looked horrified at the thought of being sick of her Mami and just decided to give her another kiss too. 

“Mateo?” Emilia asked with wide eyes as she stared up at Irene wanting to know where her best friend had gone. Alexia reassured Irene that it was fine as she reached up to bring the little boy down with a kiss to the cheek. Emilia squealed as they were reunited, and Alexia threw Irene a knowing glance as they watched them gallivant around with their hands joined. 

“Right, who’s lifting me down?” You joked as you made your appearance. The girls’ eyes widened as you shouldered Irene teasingly, “Hola amor.” Alexia stared up at you, hoping to convey how much she loved you with her eyes. “How do I get down again?” Alexia smiled at your urgency to see her as she nodded at Alba who helped you down to the tunnel.

Irene had managed to climb down as she wanted to keep an eye on the partners in crime. She hugged Alexia tightly as they shared a moment while watching their kids. “¿No te recuerdan a otras dos personas?” Irene smiled slightly bumping her hip into her Captains. Alexia chuckled as the inside joke that was circling ever since Mateo confessed his love for his best friend and Emilia had immeditaley accepted. Alexia smiled as she thought of you, and she swivelled her head keeping her eye on Isabella and Emilia. 

Alexia ran when she saw you, wanting nothing more than to finish her final lap with you by her side. The final piece of the puzzle as you had watched her very first match and had barely missed one since. She pulled you into her tightly as you kissed her neck softly, “I’m so proud of you.” Alexia teared up slightly as she kissed you lovingly wanting to sear this moment into her brain forever. 

Her hands were pressed to your stomach as she kissed you once again. “How’s my other princesa huh?” Alexia asked as she bowed her head to press a kiss to your stomach. “Still convinced it’s a girl?” Alexia and Alba, both threw you a knowing look, “Putellas’s only know how to make girls cariño.” The proof was in the pudding as both of your daughters came rushing over to get a family picture. Mateo took Emilia’s coat as she kissed his cheek in thanks before joining the pictures. Irene had to hold her son up as she nearly collapses at the sign of affection. 

Alexia picks her four-year-old up when she makes grabby hands and Isabella stands proudly in front of the three of you as you pose for a picture. Alexia’s arm is around your waist as her eyes stray to you not noticing the picture being taken as she takes in her little family. You get a few more with Alba and Eli and even one with Mateo at the insistence of the blonde. 

Alexia does get emotional as she does her lap of the field but because of how happy and content she is with her little family. “Are you sure you are okay with this?” You ask when you see her get teary eyed, but she just kisses you soundly, “Amor, I want to spend every second with my girls. I want to do this, I wished I had sooner.” She pressed her lips to your temple, “I don’t want to miss any more moments, I want it all, vale.” You wipe away a tear as she chuckled softly, holding you tightly as she pulled you closer again. 

You watch as her eyes light up as you follow her line of sight, Isabella is sending rockets at Cata while she out skills Mapí, even though they are going a bit easy on her. The smile on her freckled face is nearly a mirror image of her mother’s when she was her age and now it all made sense to why Alexia was so calm. You kiss her cheek affectionately as she places her large hand on your belly.

“Besides, my legacy will live on.”

[waves-against-a-cliff]

FWB Captain MacTavish

Content Warnings - Fingering, massive cock, oral, squirting. Captain MacTavish makes my ovaries combust.

At first MacTavish or John or Captain or Sir or- At first he treated you like any other member of his task force. A strong guiding hand, always calling you out on your problem areas as much as he patted your shoulder for doing a good job. Then the touches lingered after a particular mission left the two of you stranded in the Russian woods during winter with broken comms.

It was easy to grow close to the older man. Worryingly so but you didn't put much thought into it, he was easy to get along with so long as you obeyed his commands and didn't try and get yourself killed every time you went into the field.

Then the lingering touches combined with long stares. You'd catch him staring at you from across the tarmac or in the truck or at the mess hall. He couldn't keep his eyes off you and you'd be lying if you couldn't keep your eyes off him. He was built like a fucking tank, large hands and expansive shoulders. A scar that barely missed his eye and Scottish brogue that made your panties wetter then you'd like to admit.

One mission where the two of you had to sit around and wait, with nothing better to do you talked. Talked about home, what you missed most about being at base, if there was anyone waiting for him or for you. You joked about blowing off steam once back on base since he had sheepishly (a word you would have never used to describe him ever) admitted he was going through a dry spell. That knowledge was news to you but you also admitted to also having no action within the sheets for a while too.

"Need a release lass?" He teased you.

"Not nearly as much as you." You had retorted. The deal had been struck. Friends with benefits. A way to blow off steam without busted knuckles.

You had barely gotten into his quarters when he pushed you back onto his bed, his blue eyes nearly feral as he pulled your clothes off. He latched onto one nipple, sucking and licking at it while the other was pinched and lightly twisted between his thumb and index finger. You mewls filled the room and he slotted one thick thigh between yours, the command simple and obvious. You grinded against his still clothed thigh, panting like a bitch in heat as you juices smeared across the fabric.

When your nipples had become sore from the constant attention he switched his focus to your pretty cunt. Your clit was engorged and red, desperate for attention as your pussy dripped your slick onto the sheets. He dived between your thighs, pushing one up as he kneaded the soft skin. His stubble rubbed against your inner thigh in a way that sent sparks into your lower spine.

He ate you like a man starved, growling if you tried to wiggle away as he sucked and licked at your clit the same way he had your nipple. A single digit swirled around your pulsing hole, desperate for attention. "Sir please." You whined. A rumble came from his chest, apparently pleased with your word choice as he stuffed his finger inside you. You keened, fisting the sheets.

"I'm gonna take ye apart lass." He said, finally speaking. "Need ye to come on my fingers." He pushed a second finger in, crooking them up and feeling around for the spot that made your toes curl. You nearly screamed when he found it and then abused it. Your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train, your legs thrashed as your back arched in a way that was nearly painful.

He wasted no time to slurp up the juices that leaked around his fingers as he kept pumping them in and out. He forced you to ride that high for as long as possible even as you squealed and kicked. He didn't bother to undress himself, unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants down just enough so his thick cock came out. Your mouth watered at the sight of it. Uncut, thicker around the middle with a length that might've made you run for the hills if you weren't do damn horny.

He chuckled at whatever look must've been on your face before grabbing your other thigh and pushing it back to meet your other one. He rubbed the head of his cock, red, neglected and drooling precum, against your slit. Gathering the sticky juices around the top of his mushroom head and tapping it on your clit a few times to watch you twitch.

As he pushed in, you swore. The stretch was sinful, almost too much as your walls fought to accommodate him. He kept you pinned under him as he leaned forward, pushing his cock further into you fluttering cunt. "Fuck." He growled, "Grippin me like a damn vice."

"You're so big." You whined as you threw you head back against the pillow. It felt like it was never going to end, his dick just kept getting further and further in. To places not even your dildos could reach. It was only when he touched your cervix was he forced to stop.

"Can't even take all of me yet." He taunted as he looked down and it was true. There was still an inch or two left till he fully bottomed out but his cock was heavy inside you, twitching each time your walls convulsed around it. He pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing in small, mean circles. He groaned, nearly collapsing on top of you as your pussy clenched on him. "I havenae even moved."

"God." You sobbed, "Just move. Please move."

"No god here lass." He muttered into your ear as he slowly pulled back before he rammed back into you. "Just me."

"John!" You cried out as his cock kissed your cervix, just this side of bordering on pain until it melted into pleasure.

"Aye, thats my name." He grunted as he set a brutal pace, the sounds coming from your pussy were sinful, enough to make even the devil himself blush as he ruined you for any man. For any of your toys too. His thumb didn't stop either and you could hardly breathe when your next orgasm hit. Your eyes squeezed shut as you screamed his name, certain that the entire base could hear you. "Ah fuck, would ye look at that?" He muttered to himself as he admired the glistening juices all over his abdomen. "Good lass."

[gutsby]

Honey Trap

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: You’ve been tasked with two simple jobs: infiltrate Alexandria’s community and bring intel back to your boss by any means necessary. When your entry point into the group takes the form of a familiar blue-eyed archer, you expect this to be your easiest gig yet—that is, until your prey decides to hunt you back.

Warnings: NSFW. Unprotected p-in-v, breeding kink, some wildly unethical investigative techniques, graphic descriptions of violence and gore. Feral Daryl gone wild (and primal), courtesy of this lovely request.

“In espionage terminology, honeypot and honey trap are terms for an operational practice involving the use of a covert agent, to create a sexual or romantic relationship to compromise a target.”

In your mind, the sex was incidental to the mission.

You didn’t have to feel guilty about fucking the man’s brains out if you never meant to do it in the first place.

That was what you kept telling yourself as he shoved your face into the mattress and continued to pound you senseless. When he yanked your head back and nearly dislodged the hair at the roots with the force of each thrust, leaned in close to your ear and smirked.

“Keep grippin’ like tha’ and I’ll put a fuckin’ baby in ya.”

An honest mistake.

He flipped you onto your back and all but devoured your lips, rutting his hips so hard you thought he might displace your cervix as well. Every inch of your taut, aching walls drew him in and clenched him like a vice. You kissed him back, goaded him on, bounced an obscene cadence over his cock, and almost felt the first inklings of fatigue strain your muscles when he dropped his hand to your clit and started rubbing circles.

“Ah, fuck!” you cried, “Just like that, Daryl.”

An innocent slip of the tongue, really.

The longer these gut-wrenching blows and digital strokes continued, the closer you got to the cusp of your release. Were Daryl possessed of even a modicum of civility, you suspected he might have treated your cunt a little kinder, but frankly, the man was all animal in bed. He was a primal being, so cruelly in tune with his baser nature that every time he fucked you raw it was all tongues, teeth, and trembling lips whispering the filthiest, most repugnant things you’d heard in your life. He’d said it had something to do with him being a hunter by trade; you were never quite convinced of it, but you let him breed you like a rabbit all the same.

Presently, Daryl peered down at you with the haziest, most fucked-out look you’d ever seen grace a man’s features. He’d pushed one of your legs straight up to your chest. Two or three thrusts was all either of you had in you from that point on; with the introduction of this new angle, and that added pressure, you both went spiraling toward climax in a matter of seconds.

You threw your head back on the pillow while Daryl tore out of you, wringing his cock over your stomach until every last drop of him had painted that plane of skin.

You melted into the bed. Daryl sopped up the remains of his arousal with a washcloth, brushed a couple fingertips across your belly, and kissed your navel with affection. Then he collapsed to your left for a spell of silence.

A couple minutes later, as if on cue, you both rose from the bed and started dressing yourselves.

You felt no shame in being the first to light up this time. Tugging the pack of Pall Malls from your back pocket, you stepped outside and went fishing for your lighter.

Your eyes captured the dawn of the fresh day rising low on the outskirts of the field, and you smiled. Stuck one muddied cigarette between your teeth and lowered it to the flame you’d brought to life in the other hand. Then you took a seat on the front stoop, stretched your legs out as far as they would go, and watched the morning take shape before you. You took a contented drag.

Operator would have your head if he could see you now.

This was, without a shadow of a doubt, not part of the plan. The fraternizing, frolicking, even semi-regular fucking of your test subject strayed so far beyond the bounds of this mission, and your own ethical norms, that you’d almost forgotten what you were meant to be doing on that brisk November day.

Operator hadn’t forgotten; his aides had assembled the decoy last night. Half a mile from the comfort and calm of your little log cabin, there lay a steel-jaw bear trap nestled under a pile of bright red leaves—‘Real, real red, remember that, honey’—and above it, a target. A leaf a little larger than the rest would be arranged at the top of the mound with a circle drawn on its front, signaling for someone to step there and ensnare their foot.

That was the crux of his plan. Easy as pie.

The rest of this project, by contrast, had taken months of dedicated reconnaissance on your part—tracking and trailing behind this guy, your target, Daryl Dixon. You’d been charged with monitoring the man’s every move with painstaking attention and studying his habits, too. Was he a creature of the night or awake first thing in the morning? Was he rash, wise, or flighty, demonstrably equipped to handle life’s ugliest challenges or liable to run at the first sign of trouble? Most importantly, was he a threat to your community back home or a viable asset? That was what Operator wanted to know.

That was what you had set out to find.

The sex was just an unintended byproduct of that pursuit. Hazard of the job, you kept reminding yourself. You hadn’t lost sight of Operator’s goal at all; you’d simply been obliged to take a different route to get there.

As it turned out, Daryl had caught you in the woods just a few short weeks into your covert surveillance scheme, so you’d been forced to improvise.

Stripped of your anonymity and afraid of raising suspicion in the target, you’d tried striking up a friendship with him. It was Daryl that had been the one to tamper with the platonic seal of that liaison. On one particular occasion that found you tracking the same animal, he’d taken you by surprise and knocked you flat on your ass at the riverbank. He dicked you down, marked you up—even sank his teeth into the flesh of your neck while pinning you down—and made it patently clear that you two were a thing from that point forward.

You weren’t keen on monogamy, especially in this cheap and tawdry context, but damn if it wasn’t nice to have a warm, sturdy body next to yours every once in a while. The last month had passed in an amalgam of quiet, comfort, and peace, before eventually giving way to the foreboding sobriety of this morning, as you always knew it would. You found yourself growing sick with fear.

This was the day you made good on your promise to dear old Operator and brought his plan into action.

Shortly, Daryl joined you on the stoop.

“That’ll kill ya someday,” he snorted, watching you take another toke.

Above your head, he beckoned you with two fingers to pass the cigarette his way. You pretended not to hear.

Daryl scoffed.

“I give ya all eight inches of me, and y’can’t spare me a single one’a yers?” he said, tipping his chin to the tobacco product lodged between your lips. Pleading with you now.

“Seven,” you corrected him. You exhaled.

Without another word, you straightened up and started off toward the woods. Daryl stood, seemingly stunned a moment before bounding after you.

“Eight!” he repeated.

You watched the man emerge in your periphery as he started to trot alongside you. A direct line of sight wasn’t required to spy the indignation on his face.

“Six and a half,” you scrunched your nose, passing a quick but deliberate look over his lower half.

Daryl glanced down at his crotch and, for a second, came to wonder if the appendage hanging between his legs had possibly shrunk in the dozen-odd years since he’d measured it last. His gaze strayed to the ground, then his boots, then his groin once more before turning to you. The smirk at your lips was evident from a single look.

“Fuck you.” He bit back a laugh of his own as he gave you a shove.

Musings on Daryl’s penis length turned gradually to other, more routine topics like hunting, fishing, and the four new love bites you’d found scattered down your body that morning—‘Will you please try to control that rabid fuckin’ mouth of yours next time, Dixon?’—and before long, the two of you were deep in a discussion of what the weather would be looking like in the next few weeks.

Daryl was convinced you’d see snow, you insisted it was still too early to tell, and together, you trudged side-by-side over a stretch of land that was just then starting to make your stomach turn. Gleaming red leaves littered the ground.

Daryl lifted his arms above his head to gesticulate something big and broad, telling you storm clouds were sure to start rolling in, when suddenly, you stopped.

“Why don’t we check the traps?” you asked.

Daryl stalled his steps too, turning to you with a puzzled look.

“Which ones?”

You pointed to a patch of crimson-colored foliage down the way. Daryl followed your gaze and raised an eyebrow.

“I dun’ remember settin’ any traps there,” he said. He eyed a cluster of brambles enveloping the spot and sincerely couldn’t recall ever setting foot on the terrain.

“Just check it. Please.” Your voice was starting to strain.

Up ahead, you saw an unusually tall stack of red sassafras leaves pooled at the base of a tree. Crowning that mound was a circle in black.

You nudged Daryl’s shoulder.

“Go on,” you urged.

Begrudgingly, he set off. The sounds of his footsteps reached your ears a little louder as he stalked his way through the clearing, evidently less than thrilled to make the trek amongst a swarm of thorns.

You watched him walk, at length, to the locale you’d directed him, and you knew there’d be no animal caught in a snare when he checked it. There’d be no body, no trace, no thing to be discovered beneath that brush, and by the time he’d jerked his head up to sneer that he was right, it would be too late.

You padded over to the pile of sassafras leaves and stared down at that ring of dark ink.

‘Like a burst of little ant bites,’ Operator had told you as he’d fluttered his fingers over your ankle. That was all it was and all it was ever meant to be: a nip at your leg and a couple superficial cuts to your skin. Operator’s right-hand man, a guy by the name of Dwight, had set the trap up himself and had rigged it to where the steel jaws of the thing would clamp your ankle with a lot less force than it normally would, all while giving the appearance of having your calf bit in half.

‘Dixon’s gonna be trippin’ over his nutsack to set you free,’ Operator had predicted, grinning wide as he said it, ‘but Dwight’s got the trap outfitted a little differently—ain’t no pryin’ this thing off your foot without the help of a bona fide professional, see?’

‘It won’t hurt you any— just...tough to take off is all.’ Dwight had added, casting a nervous glance at Operator.

‘Right. Painless.’

Those parting words rang a vicious course in your skull as you stood above the contraption now. Legs shaking something awful and feet refusing to move, you tried to swallow your fears and damn near hurled them all back up when Daryl’s voice broke out a moment later,

“Ain’t nothin’ here!”

Your cue. You lifted your foot.

“Honey?”

No time. He’d spot you any second now.

With all the glamor and ceremony of a person approaching the scaffold, you brought your foot down.

The moment your heel struck the plate—the one you knew was buried deep within those leaves—a pair of springs roused the jaws of the trap in less than an instant and snapped your calf within its teeth even quicker, it seemed. You hardly had the time to react, much less retreat, but when the thing came down and caught you in its grip, you sure as hell knew it had you.

This wasn’t an ant bite, a hornet sting, or a flesh wound from a swarm of horseflies. The trap sailed straight through flesh and bone and made a jarring crunch once its teeth had reconvened across your lower leg. A fragment of your shin splintered out through the skin.

You were screaming bloody murder before your body ever hit the ground.

It was quite possibly the dumbest endeavor you’d ever attempted, but your fingers clawed frantically at the jaws of the trap, trying to pry them apart.

���FUCKING FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”

You watched blood jet from rows of jagged puncture wounds.

You heard footsteps thunder ahead, then halt, then give way to the sight of a set of hands thrusting in, joining your efforts to extract the steel from your flesh.

The metal fangs didn’t move.

“Down, down, down, push down— oh God, no, move it there—” Daryl was scrambling, frenziedly trying to tell you to press your foot on the springs to constrict them.

You couldn’t feel your foot, much less move it. You tried jerking your knee upward instead.

Another shriek tore through your chest when every one of your lesions took a hit—unyielding steel shredding more of you than you were of it.

Daryl seized your thigh and eyed your widening gashes.

“Don’t!” he bellowed, far too late but shouting it anyway, “Honey, no, no, please—”

He scarcely knew what he was saying, and you barely heard him. You were draining blood like a stuck pig and losing color in your face even faster. Your head started swimming with the loss of every drop.

Just as you swayed and tried to steady yourself in place, Daryl’s eyes darted to the space right behind you, where a cluster of walkers were shuffling out between the trees.

He clambered for his cross-bow and got back on his feet, moving fast against the pack to start picking them off one-by-one. As he lodged bolts in their brains and took knives to their eyes, you sat there and grabbed your knee, savagely wrestling the steel while red began to flood your vision.

This time, it wasn’t blood but a violent, blinding rage.

“You fucker!” you screeched, raking your fingers over the immotile trap, “Goddamn cocksucking fucker!”

You gripped the thing even tighter in your hands and wrung the metal like it was somebody’s neck—that of Dwight, or Operator, or anyone else to blame for this grotesque horror before you.

They’d set you up. Dwight hadn’t rigged it any safer; he’d boobytrapped the fucking bear snare to make it snap your leg in two. And Operator had given the order. Their goal wasn’t to feign an injury so much as it was to maim you, indelibly, so Daryl would have no choice but to bring you back to his home in Alexandria, and keep you there. You couldn’t believe you’d been so naïve. Every fiber of your being, it seemed, pulsated its wrath beneath your skin.

So wholly immersed in this fit of rage and all but dead below the knee, you shook that rough, bloody stump like it was somehow to blame for your predicament. Heedless of the fluids that came leaking out, of the damage sure to follow, of the sound of Daryl returning beside you in a hurry and begging you to stop.

“Those bastards,” you wept through wet, baring teeth.

Your words barely registered in Daryl’s brain. All he knew was that he needed to prop you up, keep you conscious, and find some materials for a makeshift tourniquet in the next couple minutes. Just as he started to map out that critical move, though, a memory flashed before his mind. Suddenly he was sprinting back across the way he’d came to the bag he’d dropped in the clearing. Almost tripped over his own two feet fumbling to get it open.

You closed your eyes and started to rock back and forth.

“Channel four, do you copy?”

“Dixon to channel four. I have a— a woman in need of emergency help. She’s hurt real bad.”

“Dozen miles out, ‘round Culpeper and Stevensburg.”

You moved your hands from your calf up to the crown of your skull, kneading the skin like it just might banish the waves of nausea and delirium that were starting to take root. Your vision was spinning and dimming each time you chanced to look around you. Colors all bled together.

Your companion kept rattling off names and places and ‘do you copy’s ‘til it seemed he’d turn blue in the face talking into that radio. At length, another voice crackled across the line, and Daryl stopped dead in his tracks,

“Jesus?”

You froze in place too.

In the throes of this blunt trauma-induced hysteria, you sincerely thought Daryl might be talking to a higher power just then. You opened your eyes and tried to wave him over as your body seized with fear. Unfortunately for you, the man was busy barking into the receiver.

“Tell him I ain’—” you whimpered, clawing the air out in front of you, “I ain’t ready.”

Upon seeing your gestures and the poor, frightened look on your face, Daryl stopped once more and dropped to his knees down in front of you.

“’S’wrong?” His eyes already surveying your body for any further signs of harm.

You sniffled, “I ain’t ready to see Jesus just yet.”

“Wh— how come?” Daryl knit his eyebrows together.

“Too many sins on the soul, Saint Peter’ll beat my ass.”

Your mind had worked itself up to a fever pitch at this point, your words coming slurred and near-incoherent. Daryl blinked for a second until it all clicked in his head. Then he said softly, almost wanting to smile,

“We’re not goin’ to meet our Maker, hon, he’s just a friend’a mine.”

“Where’d you find her, Daryl?”

You jumped at the sound of the radio and started to scoot back—dragging the bear trap in tow. Your leg had already gone numb to all sensation, but Daryl saw a thin strip of flesh go peeling off as you moved. He caught your arm and held you firm in place.

“Don’t move, baby,” he pleaded, “Yer just makin’ it worse on yerself.”

Then, to Jesus: “Found her on a— a supply run this morning. Please hurry.”

The man on the other end of the line gave his assent, asked a couple more garbled questions, and shortly ended the conversation. Daryl discarded the radio just as fast and crawled over to take your head in his hands as soon as he did. He shook it fiercely back and forth as your eyelids were just then threatening to close.

“Hey, hey, stay with me, Y/N,” Daryl spoke over and over, patting a desperate measure on your cheeks.

Your complexion was bloodless. Sweat, dirt, saliva, and streaks of garnet red all stained your person in a gory sort of mosaic, too gruesome for Daryl to tear his gaze from.

He pinched your face and pleaded hard, voice breaking, “Honey, stay here— I-I need you awake.”

You swallowed and nodded to nothing at all, eyes scanning the skyline and seeing great globs of gray invade your vision. You were bleeding, seeping, oozing that awful red stuff and feeling it pool about your feet, but there, on the horizon, there was little more than tiny spirals of gray. The sight brought Daryl’s prior weather prediction to mind, and presently, you managed a smile.

“Storm’s comin’,” you mumbled.

You weren’t sure when it started or how it arrived, but a rainfall did reach you at length. Daryl had gathered you up in his arms and squeezed you tight to his chest, rocking you side to side and begging you not to die—‘Die? I feel fine’ you’d grumbled as sparks and flames and fairies danced quietly before your eyes—when droplets of moisture came trickling down from the sky.

That rain went from a drizzle to a downpour in a matter of minutes, and all Daryl could do was drag your two bodies under the shade of a tree and hold you to him. You weren’t sure how long you waited there.

Despite your best efforts, you suspected you might have dozed for a minute or two, because when your eyes had snapped back open from what felt like an extra long blink, you heard footsteps shake the earth beneath you. You glanced down with bloodshot, bleary eyes and saw some fabric fastened tight around your leg and a medley of blue, black, and red painted all down your calf.

“Ew,” you said aloud, your consciousness hovering somewhere far above your head. It was like this body wasn’t yours at all—a mere wax-made effigy, and a shitty one at that—so you felt a bit more at liberty to speak your mind.

Frankly, you didn’t know what the fuck was going on.

Before you knew it, you were being seized by your arms and legs, and you hardly even questioned it.

“Get the door, Rick, dammit.”

“Watch her foot, watch her foot!”

“Fuck’s sake, I got it.”

From what you could make out, you were being hammock-carried by three burly men who were blinking hard against the sheets of rain coming down and shouting extra loud to be heard over the downpour. At your side was a long-haired, handsome sort of guy with eyes the color of the Mediterranean; at your head, another blue-eyed, bearded stud that could’ve easily been a cop in a past life; at your feet, a terror-stricken, and very shirtless, Daryl, holding a healthy foot in one hand and a mangled, steel-shredded lump in the other.

If you weren’t currently bleeding to death, you almost would’ve reckoned this a lovely time to visit Paris.

The trio eased you into the bed of their battered S-10 Chevy. Your head lolled into the lap of the cop, and Daryl squeezed your hand. Then he stepped back over to help his Fabio dupe of a friend at the foot of the bed, and they slowly brought your leg to rest at an elevated level. The two exchanged a few hushed words.

Your eyelids were feeling especially heavy at this point and nearly primed to close, when all of a sudden, the cop tensed below you.

A rough, calloused hand pushed the strap of your tank top a little to the left—and not at all in the way you were hoping—and sharply, the man’s voice broke out:

“Daryl, she’s been bit.”

[escapism-writer]

But You’re Mine - Gavi x reader.

A/n: Hello, this is my first ever upload to Tumblr despite having it downloaded for quite some time. Anyway I hope you enjoy!

Summary: After losing a dare to Pedri, you wear his jersey instead of your boyfriends, Gavi, to the next Barca match.

Warnings: fluff, jealous Gavi, slight cringe, might have some slight spelling & grammatical errors. (Not proof read)

You sighed as you looked over towards the jersey you always wore to all of Gavi's matches. Unknowingly to Gavi, you and Pedri had made a bet on their last match, to which Pedri had won. Due to your lost, you were now in your hotel bedroom with a No.8 jersey laying on your bed debating whether your should go through with the dare you had been given. You had been quickly snapped out of your thoughts from the light ping coming from your phone.

'You don't have to go through with the dare you know? I can feel your nervousness from the stadium already'

You skimmed over the message knowing this is Pedri's way of attempting to make you accept another lost. Though he was partly right.

'Yeah right! I'm not nervous at all plus, I'd never back down from a dare as easy as this one'

You blatantly lied in your reply, knowing one thing about this most definitely makes you nervous. That one thing being your boyfriend's reaction. You were almost certain that it didn't take a lot for Gavi to get jealous. You smiled to yourself, remembering when you last spent a day hanging out with your co-star, and it got plastered over the internet with misleading titles. Gavi's reaction when you got home was filled with desperation to prove himself to you, that he was better than your co-star. As the nerves slightly died down, the excitement lifted. Looking at your phone once more, you quickly put on Pedri's jersey while covering it with one of Gavi's hoodies.

On the drive to Camp Nou, you kept mentally arguing with yourself. Should you just keep the hoodie on? That way no one will know your wearing the no.8 midfielders jersey, but, on the other hand, you wanted to see Gavi's reaction. Before walking into the stadium you took off Gavi's hoodie, abandoning it in the passengers seat.

As you sat down in your position, you saw the golden boy, Gavi, wave towards your seat. Forgetting all your problems before, you quickly stood up and waved back while also blowing a kiss. Gavi hadn't reacted to the jersey, you just assumed he couldn't see the name and number from on the field. This made you wish you saw Gavi before the match but due to you're airport times you couldn't have. You had just finished filming a new show in England only arriving back in Barcelona late this morning.

After the 2-1 win to Barcelona, you agreed to meet with Gavi by where you had parked your car. As you waited, your previous excitement had formed back into its original nerves. Due to your thoughts clouding your vision, you jumped when Gavi knocked on the car door.

"Hola mi vida"

Gavi hummed as he got into the car, still proud from his goal earlier. Unsure what to say while your thoughts were still filled with panic about the jersey you're wearing, you hesitantly replied.

"Hola, Congratulations on your goal!"

"Turn around"

He ignored your complement on his goal, noticing something was up. You reluctantly turned to show off Pedri's kit number on your back.

"Why are you wearing Pedri's Jersey?"

You turned around to see his once relaxed eyebrows now furrowed with a confused expression matching. The poor football star repeated himself.

"How come your wearing Pedri's Jersey? Is there something wrong with mine?"

You looked up to your boyfriend, attempting to pull a straight face. ‘Might as well go with it’ you thought jokingly.

“No, I’ve just never worn Pedri’s Jersey. It’s just sat in my closet. Plus 8 is my favourite number.”

You smiled while lying, the truth is you hadn’t even had Pedri’s jersey until you lost the bet and 6 is your favourite number due to Gavi’s jersey.

“I thought you preferred 6?”

Gavi was now nervous. Why would you wear his best friends jersey? Let alone say he is your favourite number.

“I did but 8 is like an infinity sign!”

You tried to make a reason to explain your sudden liking of the number. Gavi’s thoughts delayed his response, therefore you both sat in silence for a moment as he tried to process what was happening.

“But You’re Mine.”

You felt your cheeks go warm as soon as those words fell from his mouth. Along side your cheeks, your guilt started to react with his words. Thinking of what to say, you decide to finally confess.

“Ill always be yours, Pablo. I’m sorry, Pedri dared me to wear his jersey after I lost our last bet.”

“You made a bet with Pedri?”

Gavi’s nervousness left pretty quick, instead becoming more confused by the second. You never really told Gavi that you and Pedri often betted on matches, nor did you tell him that the loser had to do a dare.

“Yeah I betted on you scoring in your last match”

Frowning at the memory of Pedri jokingly making fun of you for losing your side of the bet, you continued.

“Which, as you know, didn’t go to plan.”

“Well I scored this match if that changes anything?”

“Sadly I don’t think that’s how it works, Pablo.”

Gavi glanced down to your lips with every word you spoke, each sounding like a perfect melody. As you proceeded to talk about all your winning bets against Pedri, Gavi lifted his hand towards your chin, slightly moving your face towards his. You looked into his eyes, feeling your heartbeat vibrating though out your whole body. You both leaned in not breaking eye contact until placing your soft lips upon his.

“I’ll always love you in a way no one else can.”

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

i would just like to thank you for your service of providing us with pjo/hoo fics daily. i’m pretty sure i’ve read every single jason fic (he’s so underrated and no one really writes for him) put there and im so happy to be able to read new ones. i also love reading your percy and leo fics. percy and leo were my first loves but jason has my heart now that im older.

would you consider doing something with jason x hades reader. where reader feels ostracized at both camps and with her family bc she just has creepy vibes seems mean but she’s really just shy and insecure because people treat her badly and leave her out of everything (including her siblings) and he notices and tries to get closer to her to make her feel more welcome. and ends up getting the hots for her.

also would you consider ever doing a jason or percy smut down the road? i loved the leo smut you just posted. i don’t have any prompts.

thank you in advance!! have a great day :)

⋆⭒˚.⋆ jason grace x daughter of hades! reader hcs

content: jason grace x daughter of hades! reader hcs warning: language author's note: i used the word 'stupid' so many times im not even sure if im spelling it correctly anymore- THIS ONE WAS FUN BLOW THIS ONE UP YALL I BEG also, id be willing to do some small smut in the future but i think the ideas have to be my own bc i get a little uncomfy when its requested, ya know??? but idk, that's subject to change

you tried to connect with people, truly you did

you were funny and kind and confident and had the natural ability of just the right amount of sass at all times

but, simply because you were a daughter of hades, people tended to steer clear

even in camp jupiter, which you snuck into with nico to see your sister, hazel

and your siblings tried their best, but they each had their own friends and boyfriends

so, you refused to let them see they got to you

you developed thick skin, beginning to push people away before they could do it to you

until the stupid son of jupiter showed up, just wrecking through all your walls

you had been training by yourself, no one interested in a fight with the daughter of hades, when he popped into the arena, that stupidly bright smile on his stupidly perfect lips

"hey! y/n, right?"

"yup," you replied, dryly and halfheartedly swinging at the dummy

"cool...wanna spar?" he offered, his stupid smile somehow getting brighter

"pass, sparky," you huffed, instantly putting the sword away and going to leave the arena but he caught your arm, causing you to look up at his stupidly handsome face while he looked down at you

"okay, do you want go visit the naiads then?"

"no?" you replied, with a raised brow and frown

"hmmm. okay, how about the strawberry field?"

"...did nico put you up to this?" you asked, dryly

you'd yet to tug your arm free, you realized

you also didn't want to, which was the second thing you realized

"nope. free will is a beautiful thing, huh?" jason joked, his scar twitching with his smile.

"hazel?" you offered and jason laughed, shaking his head

he readjusted his hold on your arm so that now, your guys arms were linked together and he started walking (really, dragging you)

"still no. is it that hard to believe that i just want to hang out with you?" he questioned, his smile slipping slightly as you darted your eyes away

"yes," you bit out, ripping your arm loose before stomping away from the stupid, stupid, son of jupiter

you figured that would be the end of his endeavors

that you finally scared him off like everyone else

but no

he was insistent and persistent

...but he was growing on you

like mold, is what you told yourself to make it feel better

where ever you went, he seemed to follow like a bright shadow

though, there was one place you got some small reprieve from the stupidly smiley boy

(though, as time went on, you started wanting him around too)

your father's place, which you visited whenever nico did

and, ever the intuitive one, he could tell something was off with you

while nico doted on and climbed your step-mother's pomegranate trees, you were half-heartedly sipping at your pomegranate lemonade, curled up in some iron garden chair

"is something wrong, principessa?" hades asked, "you've barely drank any and i know it's your favorite."

"wh-what?? no, no, i'm- i'm okay, dad. no, no, i'm great, yeah," you sputtered out, rapidly taking a large drink to prove a point

"she has a crush!" nico called as he hung from the pomegranate tree, smirking upside down at the girl

you jumped up, grabbing a nearby skull and hurling it at the boy, which send him slamming into the ground with calls of indignation

"that's nothing to be ashamed of, my dear daughter! do tell, you know i love to know everything," your father laughed, leaning forwards and resting his head against his hands in intrigue

"you're not gonna like it," you murmured, shrinking in on yourself

"as long as it's not zeus' blasted blonde boy, i'm sure-..." hades halted as saw the way you shrunk in even more at his words before sighing

"great. more blondes," he huffed and nico and you shared a look, before erupting into laughter

with your father's (sort of) permission, you came back to camp with a new determination

jason found you easily, jumping up from his seat and rapidly approaching you, asking about your visit with your father

"dandy as always," you mused with a soft smile, causing jason to beam down at you

"you're in a good mood," he pointed out, gently

"well, you've got that effect on me, i guess," you flirted, looking up at him through your lashes and tilting your head slightly

jason flushed, instantly, coughing slightly

"wh-what? y/n-"

"let's go to the woods, jase. c'mon," you quickly redirected, grabbing his wrist and dragging him towards the forest

you were giving jason whiplash and he couldn't find it in him to want you to stop

you dragged him behind you, slowing to a stop as you glanced around, ensuring no peeping toms before turning back to jason, who was looking only at you

something he did often whenever you were around, like his eyes were unable to pull from you

"you've ruined my life, you know," you started, shoving a finger into his chest.

jason laughed, tilting his head at you in question as he could tell you were joking from the twitch of your face

"deepest apologies," jason replied, "how, exactly, have i ruined your life?"

"by being so stupidly you, jason grace. your stupid smile, your stupid jokes, your stupidly handsome face, your stupid lips-"

before you could get another word out, the boy was kissing you

and you were kissing him

and it was stupid, all the time you wasted not kissing his stupid lips with your stupid lips

[themaladpativedaydreamer]

My Personal Cheerleader

Pairing: Stefan Salvatore x Male Reader Genre: Smut (18+) Request: Hi, I don't know if you have time, but I was wondering if you could do another Stefan Salvatore smut? Your first one was hot and I don't know maybe a football one? Or something. Requested by: @supercap2319 A/N: I hope you enjoy it!

“I’d rather slam my tongue in a car door.” Y/n’s words cause Stefan’s eyes to roll as he follows the witch through the somewhat bustling Mystic Falls High School passages. “Come on, I completely forgot I was part of the team and now they need me for their upcoming game.” Stefan tried to reason from behind Y/n as the vampire's eyes focused on him. “I don’t see how that’s my problem. Elena is the one who encouraged you to join.” Y/n argues back, stopping at his locker. 

“You know things are complicated between us.” Y/n’s eyes roll at these words as he opens his locker. “Again, not my problem.” Stefan sighs at Y/n’s words and leans closer to him, pulling Y/n’s focus from his locker to the blonde vampire. “Please, just do this for me. I need you there.” Stefan pleads with a soft gaze at Y/n, causing the witch’s heart to speed up when his eyes connected with Stefan’s. “Fine…” Y/n relented with an annoyed sigh. “... but you owe me.” Y/n emphasised poking Stefan’s chest. “Anything you want.” Stefan smiled in return.

That’s how Y/n was where he is currently: standing on the Mystic Falls High bleachers sandwiched between supporters. Grunts of encouragement and advice spew from the mouths of the spectators as they watch the game progress. Y/n stood with his arms crossed and his eyes trained on Stefan. He noticed how the vampire would every once in a while direct his gaze to where he was on the stands, and each time Stefan saw Y/n smiling back at him.

The game eventually came to an end with Mystic Falls High coming out as the victors. Y/n searched the field of celebrations for Stefan only to come up short. “Hickory pickery, hickory pickery, where did this boy go? Did he go east? Did he go west or where the sun sets? Hickory pickery, hickory pickery.” Y/n’s spell takes effect when he feels the breeze of the evening wind blow in the direction of the locker room. 

“Stefan?” Y/n’s voice echoes throughout the locker room as he enters the empty room, majority of the football players had gone straight to the after-party. “Hey, you.” Stefan steps out from behind a row of lockers, shirtless while the lower half of his football gear still rests on his body. Y/n turns away at the sight of a shirtless Stefan, blushing at the sight of his handsome figure. 

Stefan chuckles softly, approaching Y/n’s back before placing his hands on the witch’s shoulders and turning him around to face him. Y/n felt his breath escape his mouth as he, now, looked up at Stefan while his clothed chest pressed against Stefan’s bare one. “You did so well today…” Stefan mutters softly staring into Y/n’s eyes, while the witch looks back at him with a small smile. “My own personal cheerleader.” Stefan’s arm snakes around Y/n’s waist, pulling him closer, 

“I think I want to cash in my favour right now.” Stefan smirks at Y/n’s words bringing his face closer to his and pressing a kiss on his lips. Y/n felt dazed at the feeling of Stefan’s lips on his, blood drained from his head and coursed through his body. Y/n leaned his body closer to Stefan’s, kissing the vampire back, and resting his hands on Stefan’s bare shoulders.

Stefan’s hands lower to Y/n’s thighs, caressing his ass on the way there before lifting the witch into his arms. The vampire smiles at the sound of Y/n’s small gasp. “Adorable.” Y/n feels Stefan’s breath on his neck before he is suddenly gently slammed against a locker. A moan escapes Y/n’s mouth as he feels Stefan’s lips start kissing down his neck. Stefan’s fangs bite down on Y/n’s neck, enough to darken his skin, while his hands start to undress Y/n. 

“Stefan…” Y/n moans softly letting Stefan remove his shirt, once shirtless he wraps his arms around Stefan’s neck. Stefan’s lips continue to trail down Y/n’s body before he speeds Y/n onto a bench, pushing the witch to lie down on his back. Y/n felt Stefan’s lips sensually kiss down his body while Stefan’s hand gripped at Y/n’s, now hard, cock through his pants. “Someone is excited.” Stefan teased as he unbuttoned and slowly removed Y/n’s pants and underwear at the same time freeing Y/n’s erection.

“Just relax.” Stefan mutters as his warm hand wraps around Y/n’s cock while pressing soft kisses on Y/n’s thighs, Stefan knew he was doing the right thing when he heard Y/n’s soft moans and how the witch would shift in pleasure. Stefan moved his hand up and down Y/n’s member, teasing it a bit, before moving to his balls massaging them for a moment. Y/n’s mouth hung open as his back slightly arched before he saw Stefan’s face move closer to him and kiss him passionately.

“Keep your boots on…” Y/n requested as Stefan stripped his football pants off, leaving him in a jockstrap and boots. “For you, anything.” Stefan smiled at the witch before positioning his clothed hard dick over Y/n’s face while leaning down to take Y/n’s cock in his mouth. “Ah…” Y/n moaned at the sensation of his cock in Stefan’s mouth. He felt Stefan’s saliva coating his cock while the vampire’s tongue swirled around the cock as Stefan’s lips wrapped around the skin of Y/n’s cock jerking it by moving his head up and down. 

Y/n’s fingers worked at pulling down Stefan’s jockstrap, freeing Stefan’s above-average cock from the fabric constraints. Stefan moaned on Y/n’s cock when he felt the witch’s hand slowly jerk his hard member. “Fuck, yes…” Stefan’s mouth popped off the cock in his hands when he felt his cock enter Y/n’s mouth. Y/n had no control over the way Stefan’s cock would move in his mouth. Stefan’s hips slowly thrust back and forth into Y/n’s mouth while Stefan’s fingers tease Y/n’s hole. 

“You’re doing so well, Y/n.” Stefan smiles down at his hand gripping the back of Y/n’s head as he controls the witch’s head sucking his cock. Stefan thrusts his wet finger deeper into Y/n’s hole, the two fingers spread and prep the witch for Stefan’s cock. Y/n could feel the tingly sensation course through his body in response to Stefan’s fingers. “Oh yes…” Stefan’s moan fills Y/n with more confidence as he takes Stefan’s cock deeper in his mouth, his pre-cum drips onto the back of Y/n’s throat.

Y/n’s gaze is focused up at Stefan as his leg is draped over the vampire’s shoulder and his other leg, also, being held by Stefan, exposing the witch’s hole. Stefan’s cock teases Y/n’s entrance before slowly pushing him causing Y/n to arch his back. “That’s it.” Stefan soothes as he pushes his entire cock into Y/n and hovers over him. Y/n’s chest rises and falls as he adjusts to the feeling of Stefan’s cock in him. “You can move…” Y/n’s voice sounds after a moment, prompting Stefan to kiss him before starting to pull his cock back and push it deep into Y/n over and over again.

Y/n’s moans echo throughout the locker room as his knees buckle while he stands with his legs spread apart, leaning on the lockers for support, as Stefan thrusts into him. The sound of skin slapping becomes louder as Stefan continues, his motivation being Y/n’s pleasure, he pushes Y/n closer into the lockers. “How do you feel, Y/n?” Stefan’s voice huskily sounds in Y/n’s ear. 

“So… good.” Y/n shyly moans as he sits on Stefan’s cock, his hole surrounding it. Stefan’s hands grip Y/n’s hips as he allows the witch to move up and down on his cock at his own pace. Stefan moans loudly as he feels Y/n’s hole clench tighter around his cock, while he strokes Y/n’s cock. “Stefan, I’m…” Y/n doesn’t finish his sentence as he feels Stefan’s hard cock press against his spot, causing him to moan loudly.

“Cum for me, Y/n.” Stefan commands as he thrusts his cock into Y/n, occasionally hitting Y/n’s spot. Y/n’s breathing becomes ragged. His moans slip out of his mouth faster as his cum spills out of his throbbing cock staining his chest as well as Stefan’s hand and his chest. “That’s it, Y/n. So good for me.” Stefan’s deep voice leaves Y/n pleased with himself.

Stefan’s thrusts become start speeding up as he fucks Y/n from behind, holding the witch close “Stefan, please…”. Y/n can feel Stefan’s cock start to throb at his encouragement. Y/n feels Stefan press kisses on his neck eventually reaching his mouth and as they kiss Stefan continues to fuck Y/n until he moans deeply and cum rushes out of his cock and fills Y/n’s. “Mmm, a reward for my personal cheerleader,” Stefan sighs as he pulls his cock out of Y/n’s hole. Y//n pants tiredly as he feels Stefan’s warm load fill him up and slowly drip out of his hole, leaking onto his thigh. 

After a shower, Y/n and Stefan walked out of the locker room hand in hand. “Things aren’t complicated between you and Elena, are they?” Y/n questions curiously, considering what just happened. “No, I just wanted you…” Stefan starts, kissing Y/n on the cheek. “And now, I have you.” The vampire smiles down at the witch, pulling Y/n into his arms. “You look so sexy in my jersey.” Stefan whispers to Y/n, as they head to the falls to join the afterparty.

[blackberrysummerblog]

Hi all! Thank you @rimeswithpurple, @cutestkilla, @thewholelemon, and @forabeatofadrum for the recent tags! I can’t believe it’s already this late in the year. It’s not Sunday yet, but I’m working tomorrow so I’m just going ahead and posting early so I can feel like I did something. I know tomorrow can be a hard day for some, but here’s wishing a very Happy Mother’s Day to those of you to whom it applies, and a peaceful day to those for whom it’s a little more difficult ❤️

I’ve been relatively busy with my writing this week (GASP) so I have a couple of things to share. First, some Baz POV from the second chapter of The Field Trap—things are looking up at last:

Eight snakes and a dragon. I knew he would be wet when he came blustering in—it’s why I unpacked his rucksack and laid his spare clothes out by the lit stove—but I still wasn’t prepared for the sight of Simon Snow’s ridiculously thin t-shirt and uniform pants cleaving to his body as though they’d become part of his skin. His chest is heaving, his curls are dripping in his eyes, and he’s holding aloft a brace of four large rabbits that he’s already cleaned.

Honey, I’m home, he’d said, and I know it was a joke, but if I wasn’t dead before, I certainly am now.

“Wipe your feet before you come in any farther,” I say shortly. “Dry clothes are by the fire.” I turn my back and hear him laying down the rabbits and his bow and arrows. Two loud thumps signal his shoes coming off, and then there’s the slushy sound of wet cloth rubbing against itself as Simon makes his way over to the fire.

“You laid my clothes out for me,” he says, like he’s awestruck. I bite the inside of my cheek and stare up at the ceiling, trying not to visualize what’s going on behind me as I hear his sodden clothes hitting the floor. “Baz?”

“What.” Who am I kidding, I’m very much visualizing all of it.

“You can look.” His throat sounds dry. I shake my head, eyes squeezed shut now with the effort of holding my fangs in. “Do you not want to?”

I try to think about everything I told him earlier. He’s going to end up following the Mage to the end of our world someday, and I’ll have to stand with my family. I think about my fangs, ready to burst from my gums at just a hair’s more provocation. I think about how inexperienced with all this I am, and I feel hopeless. And yet…

I turn around.

My second share is from the piece I’m doing for COBB, which I’m really happy to say that the first 5000 word chapter is completely written for. I feel strangely…competent? LOL. Here’s a bit of Dev POV:

And he did. I watched with a cold sort of horror as my cousin, always the more powerful magician of the two of us, stood on our balcony and asked the universe for a handsome man with blue eyes, golden skin dusted with stars, and curls that were neither fully blond nor brown. He would be strong, brave of heart, and make the best sour cherry scones in the world (sour cherry? That’s not even a real type of scone, I wanted to say). Instead I’d said, “That doesn’t sound impossible,” in spite of the sparkly-sounding skin. Baz had given me stink-eye as only he could and can, before adding the coup de grace: “He will have the blood-red wings of a dragon, and a tail.”

It had taken all I had not to burst into laughter at that, but my headstrong cousin was already pressing rose petals into the potion and blowing his breath onto them as he tossed them out into the night air. “Baz,” I’d admonished, but the spell was cast, his heartbroken wish already caught by the breeze and curling up, up, towards where the full moon hung heavy and silent in the sky.

Have a great week everyone! No-pressure tags: @drowninginships @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @nightimedreamersworld @arthurkko @artsyunderstudy @facewithoutheart @iamamythologicalcreature @aristocratic-otter @tender-ministrations @valeffelees @mooncello @confused-bi-queer @beastmonstertitan @prettygoododds @youarenevertooold @raenestee @roomwithanopenfire @asocialpessimist @hushed-chorus @papierhaikuphoto @stitchy-queerista @orange-peony @brilla-brilla-estrellita @ivelovedhimthroughworse @bookish-bogwitch @c0nsumemy5oul @aceumbrellaheroes @larkral @letraspal @stardustasincocaine @cows4247 @shrekgogurt @j-nipper-95 @ic3-que3n @ileadacharmedlife @wellbelesbian @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @onepintobean @theearlgreymage @imagineacoolusername @mostlymaudlin @shutup-andletme-go @sailorblossoms @hertragedyconnoisseur @yellobb @ionlydrinkhotwater @alleycat0306

[ikkosu]

REWIND / CHROMEDOME

(adopting gn!human reader)

a/n : been wanting a cute fluffy request I hope I wrote them uh satisfactorily 😭😭 I actually enjoyed writing about baby and cdrw maybe I’ll write more scenarios with this little family ughhh so cute

"Alright folks, we're leaving in thirty minutes!" Rodimus's voice echoed through the speaker.

"It's either you get on or get off the ship forever— Er, ah...oh what's that? We're not allowed to leave when— Damn it. Apologies, there's been a restatement by Ultra Magnus declaring it's illegal, you guessed it, for whatever reasons I'm not bothered enough to care. Blah, blah blah. Oh, shut it drift. Anyways, latecomers are welcomed in the brig. Buckle up in thirty! Rodimus out."

Rewind swivelled his gaze from the rock nestled on the grass, then to the ship, hovering not too far from where he's crouching. "Huh, guess I'm taking a detour." Then, his camera skims over the verdant fields of rolling hills. Red lights, blinking. "Won't hurt, would it?"

The LL had a short break stopping on Earth, mostly for refuelling, fresh air, stretching limbs,,,totally not because Brainstorm blew up the left wing again and The Science Team had to patch things up discreetly

Seriously, where is HR when you need it?

And, obviously, the Archivist is not missing the opportunity to explore, of course. It's earth! Home to,,,well,,,,the most complex (derogatory) kinds in the cosmos. And, this rock he's been examining? It's an extraterrestrial mineral. Figments of rocks from asteroids, comets, and the like originating outside of the Earth. Crazy, huh.

Better keep that for safekeeping.

Aside from, ah, well wandering where he's able to film stuff, occasionally animals and cows of the like, it's more like a need, at the moment, for a bit of (lets put this gently) space away from his conjunx — since, he's been acting like an ass of late.

Ahem, going behind his, ahem back to doing ahem Mnemosurgery....again.

It's not even an 'again' anymore, it's just borderline often

Why does he even bother to listen? You can't break old habits, as Ratchet would say. They'd break themselves before they could ever stop.

"So that's it? You're just going to ignore me like that?" Footsteps pattered behind him

Rewind huffs, walking faster. "Took you long enough to figure it out, genius."

He groans. "Oh for— Primus sake, Rewind, come on. Don't do this. We can talk."

"Oh sure, sure! Talk." He threw his hands up, whirling around to face his conjux. "That's what you always say, promising me like you're going to get your eyes gorged out if you didn't. What else, tell Red Alert to stop being paranoid and Whirl, a psychopathic ass?"

Chromedome palms his face. Primus, this apology isn't going well as he expected it to. "Look, I messed up. I breached a trust you had in me. I shouldn't have done it. That was very... inconsiderate....of me..."

"What is this, eight grade? Spelling bee on who's responsible?"

"That's not the point! You can't just—"

And, so it begins. The bickering. The blaming. Hand pointing. Arguments ablaze, never listening. Voice raising — just the tip of the iceberg, not even close to it's full potential.

"I bet my words doesn't mean anything to you now, does it?"

"It's does, Rewind. It does!"

"Hey! Stay there! Don't even come any closer or I swear to Primus I'll—"

A cry gurgled out amidst the bushes.

The Mnemosurgeon stiffens. He looking around for the source of the cry when he notices conjux was staring at him. "What?"

"Wow. Wow. Low blow, Chrome dome." Rewind puffs and presses his fists on his hips. " Low blow. I didn't think you'd do this. You're gonna resort to mocking me, now?"

He sputters. " You think that was me?"

"Yeah, blame it on the cows. Blame it on 'em like you do when avoid all responsibility."

"What's even a cow? Oh, for—" Then suddenly he lets out a surprised sound, dropping to crouch next to a bush. Rewind doesn't bother to look. Why would he? He's busy sulking and he wants that Mnemo-no-to-the-o to see it. Though, his audials tuned into a rustle of leaves when—

"There! Primus, Rewind look at this."

Said Archivist was still sulking, arms crossed, looking away. "Nuh, uh."

"Don't you nuh uh me." CD chuffs and figured actions were bigger than words so he scooped up the bundle of blankets and shoved it up his face. "Well? Still got film for this?"

Rewind takes a moment to register the visage.It was, if he knew his terms correctly, a human child. No, wait. A baby. It's the size of a sparkling but....smaller. And, significantly softer.

Most of all, it's crying. Coolant— er, tears streaming down the side of it's cheek. Gently, his servos curled around the scoop, nestling it softly against his chassis. He felt a kind of pull in is spark. Something fond pulsing. Chromedome loosened, looking away. What's the point? The mask already hid his smile.

"Seems pretty far from it's residential zone." Chromedome peers across the horizon searching for even the most recognizable specks of rooftops.

Nope, nothing.

Just rolls and rolls of green foliage.

"Hey there little fella." The Archivist coos, digit caressing the cheek to soothe it. The baby sniffled then blink, lifting up it's tiny fingers to bap his index. "What's a baby doing here of all places?Aren't human, uh, carrier, sires are very protective of their offsprings?"

Chromedome doesn't know what to say, he's not Ratchet or Percy, but he's sure as hell relieved their argument took a turn into park. "Misplacement, maybe."

"...How do you misplace a baby in a bush?"

"Things like that can happen, you know."

"If anything, it seemed like it's deliberately thrown in there. Look! It's even wrapped in a blanket."

He held it up for the Mnemosurgeon to see who, in turn, simply shrugged.

"Yeah. To keep it warm."

"Until someone finds them."

Chromedome narrows his optics. He's got a bad feeling about this. "Rewind. What are you trying to say?"

"What I'm trying to say is that this child is deliberately left here to be found. We can't just leave it out here—"

"Are you saying we should steal it?''

"I'm not saying we should- ugh yes! I'm saying we should steal it—"

"You're kidnapping children now?"

Ratchet cuts through both of their comms, immediately barraging them, "Are you two idiots done squabbling with whatever stupid problem you have or are we gonna have to wait another fraggin' hour until you both make up and kiss?"

They had to take the baby, much to CD's dismay.

Ultra Magnus was losing his mind. What do you mean you found a baby in a ditch, in a bush, in a field of all places?! Even worse, literally miles and miles away from the nearest habitual region!

Purely, coincidental. He'll have to look in his files for crimes like this lest another is let loose for havoc. The young are the future for society! Something Cybertron is severely lacking in

Unacceptable. Simply unacceptable. Oh, and by the way, you're both going in the brig. You're late.

"Chromedome stalled me."

"Here, we go again."

Everyone is busy cooing and taking turns prodding the bab, and can someone please keep whirl away from the child he's armed, (with the exception of Megatron, the medics and UM) who didn't, mostly for the fear of passing diseases to it, mostly stood far with unimpressed looks on their faces.

First Aid, though, eventually took matters into his own hand,,, by taking it into his own hands and putting it in a glass box (shut up Brainstorm we're not using your stupid Polyhex Quadrilateral Box or whatever) to scan it's vitals and conditions

Everyone was outside, peering through the glass, prodding, helms jut at odd angles to see through the crowd — while the medics delicately assessed its condition.

Ratchet had to explain poor Rewind that not everyone wants children and not every parents are deserving of it so. He's seen this a lot in human culture.

"So they abandon babies just for the fun of it?!"

Well, he's got a point. Most of it at least. "Rewind.... no."

When they were done ensuring the baby is in optimal condition, Ratchet comes up to the, er couple, if he had to put it that way and crossed his arms, a brow raised.

"Do you trust yourselves enough to look after the child?"

"Might as well." CD sighs. ".... I've got enough responsibility on my plate, already."

"Nobody forced you to go back and take it." Rewind mutters.

Ratchet held up a servo to cut off another argument brewing. " I'm going to put this out clear."

A digit points to them. Ratchet grits his dentas and every word that spooled out of his vocalizer, more intense.

"You both are going to have to put your differences aside. You're going to resolve that problem of yours, and resolve it clean — not in front of the child, but behind. Go hide in a broom closet for all i care. Mutilate or incapacitate each other's limbs, if it helps. Fight all you want, kill each other if you have to. But this baby? This baby? You're going to give this child the most loving, caring family it can have. You hear?"

Shenanigans ensue.

Obviously, given they're Cybertronians, human anatomy isnt a topic they're very well versed with. Rewind does know a thing or two. But consulting videos are not really the best way to go when neither of them have the tools to feed the baby

Percy and Nautica (because he doesnt trust brainstorm) are tasked with concocting the milk formula. They're seen tinkering away in the lab, barring the other scientist against a let-me-in charade. Lab doors are locked and padlocked with a specific colde — suck it BS.

All elements, minerals and resources as such are to be provided Rodimus (begrudingly), then fact-checked by the medics, very, very carefully.

They're like guts deep in space and very far from earth. A quantum jump to said planet, in case of an emergency, can affect the only organic living onboard.

Moreover, Ratchet doesn't trust CDRW to learn the stuff themselves, so he holds five hour long sessions daily on how to provide sufficient needs for the baby. You know, handling them, playing with them, learning their gestures, mannerisms,,,etc

CD loves holding baby by the armpit, and especially loves it when he does that, baby tries to bap his face, squealing and babbling, trying to reach him— he finds that his chassis always melts a little.

Rewind, on the other hands, adores cradling baby in a blanket. He likes how warm and soft it is against his arms. And how easily it his to nestle baby under his chin as he walks.

He is the most affectionate from the two. And definitely records everything. Soccer mom-esque, cheering loud whenever baby does something' monumental, for instance, blabbering dada coherently. But also the most rigid. Like, lattice structured rigid.

''Rewind you watch snuff films you hypocrite, a Sunday cartoon getting a liiiiittle violent is nothing compared to the archives you go through." Rodimus wags the CD in front of the Archivist, an upturned pleading pout, pulling his features. He looked comical hunching to regard the smaller Archivist with baby nestled under his chin.

It was an obvious ploy to fiddle with the baby. Everyone's trying to get a nab of their little squeals, these days. Why wouldn't they?

Those adorable fats for cheeks, soft and cuddly, crawling around the habsuite like a cretin, gumming on everything they could find.

Skids managed dodging through the vents after a successful glimpse of peek-a-boo (Rewind forbids physical touch. He's not risking any disease that can be transferred.)

He slinked down and baby immediately latched onto his pedes, babbling for an upsie. It took him a while, and much restraint, not to take it through the vents

Swerve almost poisoned baby with the engex again because, in his own words, what's a little harm in trying new things?

He's now locked up in the brig, banned from touching baby ever .

This entire crew is a hazard and Rewind wasn't having it.

"Is this the same captain known for illegal conduct of meteor surfing?"

"....Oh, shut it."

Chromedome's not very affectionate but is less-rigid when it comes to baby. He's the type to cave in when they want something. Sweets? Oh, you want sweets? He doesn't care if the Lost Light is miles away from the nearest planet. He's going there and he's going now.

Stop him and he'll plunge those long, needle-like nails into mecha's skull, their ancestors could see Primus's aft whole again.

Hoards like,,,,around fifty satchels of sweets. It was only until Ambulon had a private chat with the Mnemosurgeon, that, yes, the baby is going to die eating that much.

So, he offered safer alternatives if baby wanted something sweet. Boiled potatoes, ripe avocados and fruits could help. (They'll have to frequent the nearest planets)

CD is like the most cynical ass ever to exist so Rewind find himself with an existential crises, staring off into a wall, when baby would scrunch up their face, the way CD does when he's displeased.

"That mask stays on."

"But I didn't even—"

"It stays on."

But he also finds, a little begrudingly, that CD is a lot more understandable these days. Mostly always cradling baby and humoring the little cretin . Arguments are close to nill. He barely has to raise his voice

Cybertronians naturally have harsh edges, given they're metal (duh), so their rooms would be congruent in terms of features as well. Not exactly a pleasant thought when an organic is dawdling about.

So to be safe, in their habsuite, Chromedome installed padded cushions everywhere. Even the ceiling is padded, mecha's kibbles are also padded (much to Rodimus's chagrin)

And, every inch and crevice of that room is filled with scribbles. (Scribbles only Swerve can decipher, but he's busy lounging in the brig so there's that.)

Red Alert, during a habsuite check, once blacked out inside the room because he didn't recognize the new change. It was so pastel-ish, bright and soft, he justs goes away

Chromedome finds the poor mech on the ground, baby on top with their crayons, assaulting said mecha's face while squealing at the teal green against stark red paint

"A new paint job, huh."

"Chromedome, get the poor guy up for Primus's sake!"

Baby is limited to the Library and Med-bay (as per Rewind's request). Library because Megatron is there and they know for a fact he's more trustworthy with the baby than anyone. And, Med-bay because, well, medics

But obviously, baby is like, a little cretin who thinks rules are a no-go and said social construct a danger to society. And, by who's declaration? Rodimus. It's Rodimus.

Rewind is going to murder that speedster of a captain

So , it's a given mech's will see CD scampering across the halls upon spotting baby dangling off a goddamn beam. Or, hanging off someone's shoulder, (said bot doesn't know, because baby is so small, the sensors didn't pick up), then sees the mnemosurgeon slumping onto the ground in relief, passed out for a minute

What's baby doing there?!

Rip CD's spark rate.

And, since they've got to play the part of a happy family, Rewind has to sleep in the same berth as his conjux. Not that they didn't ever

After the reveal (CD going behind his back doing unethical things w/ his fingers) Rewind was obviously displeased so they sported separate berths. Now? They'll manage squeezing in the same bed.

Rewind tried to act all huffy about it, glancing to one side, as though he doesn't want to be there. He does. He's just sulking.

Chromedome silently stares at the ceiling. Baby is between them, chewing on a miniature Rung figure (that Rung gave because, somehow, it calms the little thing)

Baby notices the silence and wants attention, so they bap their hands on the surface when both mechs weren't listening. And does it again for the fifth time. CD sighs and decides to humor baby, a little.

"It's past bed-time." He says quietly, patting their head

With a squeal, baby plays with CD's servo and curls it over their head. He scoops the little bundle up into his arms and loosened up a little.

Rewind swivels to find baby nuzzling his conjux, both deeply asleep. Something soft thrums in his spark, and while he’d rather bash his conjux’s a skull with a hammer, he can’t deny the lovely visage of him cuddling their child. So, he scoots over a little, resting his helm on CD's shoulder. He doesn't flinch when a servo lands on his shoulder plate, pulling him close.

Maybe, it wasn’t so bad.

[potentialguybodyswaps]

College Cool Kid Swap:

Dude what? You’ve jerked off already and wanna blow me so the swap becomes permanent?

Bro listen, I get it, it’s been like 2 weeks, your probably just horny, you sure you wanna do this? I’ve done my side of the agreement and I haven’t jerked off or anything, passed your test for you… You sure you wanna suck my dick? You’ve already jerked off in my body so The moment I cum this becomes permanent

“Ya bro, I know, I mean being stuck in your nerdy body would kinda suck but I’m sure I can workout and get back on the track team, I’m not gay but if I was ever gonna suck dick, I’d suck off my own body, that’s not gay right? Technically it’s just self pleasure” he said

“Shiiit I guess” I said pulling my shorts down letting my already hard dick flop out, smiling happy at the thought I get to remain as Caden.

“Oh my god okay here we go, just lemme know when your about to cum, I wanna swallow my own load” he said seeming exacted and taking off his glasses before deciding to go down on my 7 inch rod

It’s only like a inch and a half bigger than my old one, but not like I got to put it to use much, only girls that liked me back were the nerdy ones, and they didn’t quite get me hard like the current girls I can pull as Caden

Caden was going down on me like a pro, it’s almost like he knows what he’s doing or he’s thought every moment and action of this out

Halfway though blowing me he tries to go all the way down and take in my whole shaft but had to come back up and gag, guess I hit his gag reflex, I’ve never done that to anyone, that’s so awesome that I’m big enough now to make bitches gag

He went back to sucking only about 2/3 of it making sure to try and wiggle his tongue as much as possible playing with my head

“Oh shit Caden I’m about to cum” I said rubbing my chest and stomach feeling my weak abs up and down (hey abs are abs, I never had any before!)

it’s like I could see the look of fear on his face as he came up completely letting my cock flop out and just said”I’m sorry Danny, I’ve thought about it and I don’t think I wanna do this, I mean don’t get me wrong, your not the worst looking nerd on campus, and your not as small as I thought you’d be, but I don’t know if I wanna give up my life and my friends, you understand right?”

I stared down at him as he put my glasses back on his face and got up

“That mother fucker, just gonna tease me like this and then take it away from me?” I thought to myself as I felt testosterone and adrenaline running though me

“Ya I said” smiling though gritted teeth

Lemme walk you back to your dorm and we can do the spell there to swap us back” i said wrapping an arm around him and walking in the direction of my actual dorm

“Thanks”he said

We ended up walking though a field taking a shortcut, halfway though the field I realized no one was around, and my dick was still throbbing, that I had propped up via waistband of my shorts so it wasn’t obvious that I was copping a boner

I decided to make my move. I got behind Caden and moved my arm putting him in a choke hold

“What are you doing” Caden barely manage to get out due to me crushing his wind pipe

“I’m gonna blow my load all over your face, since you wanted it early” i said

“W-what?” Caden manage to get out before going limp

I laid his body on the ground and got on my knees pulling my shorts down letting my dick flop out again. I took my right hand and begun furiously jerking off before anyone would come wondering and see what I was doing

Right as I was about to cum I got closer to Caden’s face and aimed for his open mouth and muttered the words I said earlier “ oh shit Caden, I’m about to cum” this time since he was unconscious there was no facial change and I began busting ropes upon of ropes of cum, I got a few In mouth and decided to finish the rest on his face as punishment for not letting me finish the first time

“Ughhhh” I sighed

“Thanks for letting me finally cum after 2 weeks and agreeing to make this permanent, your the best Danny. hope you really enjoy your new life, nerd” I said laughing leaving him in the field to go back to my new dorm where I plan on jerking off all night with my new awesome dick and track build feeling my new tight body/abs

#edit please Tip if you like the story 👉🏼👈🏻🥺

[five-miles-over]

Dandelions

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Summary: Having heard stories about the Norse god of mischief, you find yourself falling in love with Loki despite having never met him. Out of devotion, you prepare offerings that you think he would like, and find ways to express the way you feel. Little do you know that your feelings are not unrequited.

(Yes, this is fluff inspired by the song "Dandelions" by Ruth B)

Maybe it was the way that you said his name. Or maybe it was the way that you offered your love for him to claim.

Loki watched from the Bifrost, looking down as you went about your day on Midgard. It was almost time for one of his favorite moments of the day. A moment for which he would set all of his affairs on Asgard aside, instead turning his attention to you and only you, his Midgardian devotee.

Standing in the field three blocks away from your apartment, you adjusted your heavy coat and picked up a small, whitish-yellow flower, bringing it up to your lips. 

You closed your eyes and whispered,  "Loki, the son of Odin and the companion of Thor." 

And then you blew the dandelion, sending its seeds into the wind. When you opened your eyes, you placed the stem down and picked up another flower, invoking Loki again with a whisper. 

"Loki, the son of Odin and the companion of Thor." 

Reader POV: 

According to something you had read on the internet, the dandelion was known as Loki's Bloom. Since then, you began making a small habit of picking up the dandelions and blowing them in his name. You would do anything to bring the Norse God of Mischief into your life, despite some scholars saying that he was actually someone who shouldn't be wanted. 

The truth is that you nurtured a deep affection for Loki, ever since you had first read the stories about him and heard legends of his exploits from many an online scholar. You weren't sure what you loved the most about him: his cleverness, his intelligence, his playful nature, or his handsomeness (almost everyone in the stories- gods and goddesses and humans - described him as very good-looking). He was already one of the greatest heroes you'd ever believed in, even though you had never seen him in your life.

You began to create your own version of Loki, who soon became a source of comfort in your hectic, often anxiety-inducing life. He was a tall man with beautiful features: dark hair because it appealed to you the most, pale skin due to the climate, green eyes, and slender fingers that made every touch feel like magic. And he always knew the right thing to say at every moment, whether it was a witty remark that made you laugh or soothing words that eased your fears. 

You found often yourself dreaming about your Loki at night. Sometimes he was dining with the other gods in Asgard, sometimes he was riding upon a horse, sometimes he was conjuring spells and illusions in the Nine Realms, sometimes he was enticing a new lover into his bed, and sometimes he was in solitude, enjoying a piece of literature.

"Loki, the son of Odin and the companion of Thor," you silently wished when you opened your eyes and held your pillow close. "Grant me a companion with your wit, your mischief, your bewitching nature. If not you, then let me have someone just like you in my life."

And as your love for Loki grew stronger with every new facet you learned about him, you began looking for ways to show your affection for the god. A voice inside you said that Loki - a god living in Asgard or Jotunheim - might never pay attention to you, just another human, but…it felt good to be doing things for someone who had brought you such sweet dreams. And because you simply adored him. 

For months, you experimented with new recipes for cookies, breads, and cakes after reading an article about how the Norse God of Mischief enjoyed sweet offerings. Thanks to his blessings, most of them turned out delicious. After expressing your gratitude to Loki, you would whisper his name and present the dishes up as if offering it to him. Though he might never see or taste it, it still felt wonderful to perform acts of love in his name. 

Other things you did for Loki included reading aloud stories to him, saving digital photos of artwork you thought Loki would like, and most recently, wishing on dandelions. Wishing on dandelions for someone you might never see outside of dreams.

Back to Loki's POV: 

If only you knew the truth, my dear, Loki thought to himself. You were wrong to think that Loki did not know about the way that you felt about him. That he did not notice all the gestures that you performed to show him that you belonged to him. 

Loki tilted his head, and watched you with a smile. He had never known anybody like you, so devoted to pleasing him. He relished the fragrances of the baked delicacies you prepared in his name, the way you wafted the scent towards the heavens so that he could enjoy them. He was amused when you created a form for him to assume, one that made you fall in love with him even more. He was delighted by how fervently you wished for a companion just like him.

And now here you were, standing in a field of dandelions, wishing for the same thing. 

Knowing there was only one thing to do, Loki closed his eyes. 

When he opened them, he stood at the same field of dandelions where he'd seen you earlier. Lost in your own thoughts, you were gazing at the setting sun after wishing on several dandelions. Loki invoked a magic spell that transformed himself into the handsome, green-eyed man with chin-length hair who captured your heart. He transformed his clothing into a long-sleeved green tunic, dark trousers, and a suit of black and gold armor. Then, Loki picked another dandelion and offered it to you.

"Will you not wish upon this one, my lady?" 

You turned around, and Loki smirked. He stepped forward and gently placed his hand upon your cheek, your lip trembling at his touch. 

"You wished for me, did you not? Here I am." Loki gently said, watching the shock upon your face morph into a smile. "If only you knew how powerful you are, sweet one. You have brought a god at your mercy with your acts of love."

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

It’s Okay

Sick!Natasha x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Mentions of the Red Room, Sick!Nat, jealousy (of Liho), slight angst

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors!

Word count: 800 words

Author’s Note: I just wanted to do something light headed and short

Masterlist

Me and Natasha had been together for nearly ten years now and married for four of them, but nonetheless she hated to be vulnerable with me. It got better but in our beginnings, it seemed like she would rather want to die than show a weak spot.

The firs time I saw her, like that was years ago. When we became something along the lines of friends. Natasha had just got here from Russia and refused to interact with anyone but Clint and Fury, on the good days maybe Maria. On this day I went to the gym around three in the morning, not expecting to meet anyone so early, however I was wrong.

When I sat foot into the large halls of our gym I could hear her muffled crying close by. I went to interrogate it and what I saw was truly shocking. There she was the angry, scary, ex assassin rolled up into a fetal position crying quietly. She didn't even notice that I was here. I considered my options, I couldn't leave her here I had to do something right? "Agent Romanoff? Are you okay, do... you need anything?"

After the first words left my mouth Natasha look up, terrified like she had just been caught doing a terrible crime. She wiped away her tears "I have to go now" Natasha stood up abruptly I placed a hand on her shoulder before she could run off. "Nightmares am I right" she would just nod and the end of the night Natasha would sleep peacefully next to me as I held her close. On the next morning she was gone the only thing she left was a note thanking and pleading me not to tell anyone. I could only laugh at the last part.

After months she would tell me the reasons for her break downs at night the red room. She wasn't aloud to show weakness, the reason why she was so scared of me seeing her weak like that. She was just afraid of the harsh punishment that she could've received.

Me and Natasha had been on a field mission together and to put it simple it just didn't stop raining. At the end we were wetter than wet drenched in mutt and rain. So it was no question if me or Nat would get a cold rather when would it set in.

Natasha was sitting at her desk, writing down her mission report. I heard her coughing and sneezing through the entire apartment and that's when I decided it's enough. I made my way through the hallway while her coughing gets louder. She looked up when I opened the door to her office “Baby, you’re sick” She looked at me with tired eyes “You need to rest” Natasha sneezed again before saying “I am perfectly fine” She blowed her reddened nose in a tissue “Being sick is for the weak and” Again she gets interrupted by a yawn “And I’m not”

I sign, walking over to her messy desk placing a hand against her head feeling the heat under my hands. “Natasha, you need to rest now you are burning” She looks at me with with her tired eyes. “First I’m not sick, I’m never sick” She sneezed again “Second I have to finish this report” I could only shake my head at her stubbornness.

“That’s it Tasha, I am your wife and you are sick which means I’ll take care of you now. No but, no mission reports, no work just cuddles and watching grey's anatomy” She wanted to say something against it again but before she could I shut her off. “No, Natasha you’re sick it’s okay to be vulnerable, you’re not in the Red Room anymore. You’re not weak it’s strong to show weakness”

Her eyes met the ground, she looked sad. I grabbed her hands pulling her from her office chair into my arms, hugging and holding her tight. Sweet nothings were whisper in her ear before I carried her to bed snuggling her into our shared bed.

“Do you want Liho, baby” I kissed her forehead, she just shakes it. Even though she said she didn’t want the cat as it wasn’t leaving our side in a mission she still kept him. Her heart melted whenever he would do the most simple things, however she would never admit that.

I had placed the cat between us whenever I would get to close to Nat he would hiss at me. She would just laugh and keep petting him.“Nat do you truly love the cat more than me?” She pet him listening to his purring “He doesn’t order me around like you do” I throw her a fake look of offense „That’s not true“ She laughs before coughing again. I smile as I lean closer to her but before our lips could meet Liho stared hissing again, making Natasha laugh. „Oh shut up“ I mumbled before pressing my lips to her, pulling her close by the waist.

On this day Natasha let herself finally be vulnerable again without the guilt, without the bad feeling, without the memories.

:)

[veryace-ficrecs]

Percy jackson fic recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

In a Field of Dandelions by mrthology - Rated T

"You okay there?" she asked once she was closer, smiling in what she hoped was a welcoming manner. The man smiled back, still looking a bit confused. Nicky's breath caught in her chest when he met her eyes. His gaze was a little too vivid, his bone structure a little too perfect. He seemed a little too much more than human. Part of her wanted to run, while another part wanted to follow him to the ends of the earth and beyond. "I think so," he replied, breaking the spell. "Just trying to figure out day one, I suppose. I'm Percy!" ----- Percy and Annabeth's eldest child starts school. Percy inadvertently causes a bit of a stir, and Annabeth isn't jealous, not at all.

good does not equal Goode by vani_em - Rated G

One thing was clear: Percy Jackson was not Goode High School material.

The Overwhelming Specter of Your Mothers Book Club by 60sec400 - Not Rated

Martha Blofis stared at her son in shock. “What do you mean,” she said slowly, “that you’re married?” Her son fidgeted nervously. First, he ran a hand through his peppered hair, and then his eyes flickered down and away. Then he lifted them again and smiled meekly at her. “Paul,” she said, “I need you to tell me what in gods name you were thinking.” “Her name is Sally Jackson?” Paul said, his voice lifting as he weren’t quite sure what the name of his wife was. AKA Paul tells his mother he hasn't seen in four years that he's married. Really, the only thing she can think about is what she's going to tell her boook club.

Good Enough for Someone by bouquetofwhoopsiedaisies - Rated T

Paul was quiet for a minute on the other side of the bathroom door. Percy expected him to walk away, but he didn’t. “Percy?” There was something in his voice that Percy couldn’t identify. Something like concern, mixed with something like fear… something that let Percy know he had truly and royally fucked up. He felt hyper-aware of every sound, from the dripping of the facet to the shifting weight of the person outside the door, his mind spinning as he tried to map Paul’s position like he was in battle. He heard the tiny, barely perceivable sound of fingertips brushing the doorknob, and it made him want to throw himself out the window and flee to the fire escape. Especially at Paul’s next words: “Can I open the door?” Percy bit his already-split lip, not even caring at the pain the action brought. He stared up at the fluorescent light above him. He scrubbed at his eyes, ignoring the dull flare of pain from the bruise there. He didn’t realize he was crying until the salt stung his wounds. “Percy?” Paul called his name again. “Yeah,” Percy sucked in a deep breath, even as a broken rib made his chest feel tight. “I… I guess I could use some help."

Stars on the Water by liketolaugh - Rated T

"I dunno, I just think it would make a lot of things easier for a lot of people," Percy said to Thalia, when she just stared at him. His cheek rested in his hand, a rare pensive look leaving his eyes distant and unfocused. "Mom has Paul now, so it’ll be easier on her if she doesn’t have to worry about me mucking things up. Dad won’t have to keep threatening war every time Zeus gets his toga twisted. The prophecy’s done, so I won’t be bringing it down on Nico. And no one will have to worry about me blowing up another volcano."

Oh Sugar Sugar by mrthology - Rated T

After the Titan War Percy starts feeling under the weather - he’s always tired, losing weight he doesn't have to lose, is constantly freezing, and just generally feeling lousy. But he’s kidnapped by Hera before he can see a doctor like his mom wants. Then there’s the Quest to Alaska, sailing to the Ancient Lands, falling into Tartarus, fighting the Giants in Athens, fighting Gaea herself… Needless to say, he had too much on his mind to notice a few annoying symptoms that can mostly be ignored. It turns out Type-1 Diabetes can be incredibly dangerous, especially when you don’t know you have it in the first place. Now three chapters, and featuring a much needed Percy and Nico heart to heart.

Red Ink Checkmarks by liketolaugh - Rated T

Paul joins their family a year and a half after Smelly Gabe leaves it. Percy, to his own irritation, is still sensitive about a lot of things at that point.

he ain't heavy, he's my brother by mrthology - Rated G

Percy doesn’t get migraines very often, thank the Gods, but when he does they tend to knock him on his ass for days, regardless of drugs, ocean water, sleep, ambrosia, or anything else he’d tried. He just had to wait (suffer) it out. It was just his luck that his first migraine in literally years would hit when he was visiting his father in Atlantis for the first time after the war with Gaea. And instead of waking up with one and being able to hide in his rooms, he’d have to collapse in public, right after talking to his half brother Triton. If it didn’t hurt so damn much he’d be embarrassed.

To Sir, With Love by writergirl8 - Rated T

"Here's how the game works: Because I'm one of the lucky teachers that gets to have you from seventh grade to twelfth grade, I get to watch all you grow up. When I toss this ball in your direction, I want you to say your name, your favorite color, and what you hope to accomplish in the next six years of your life."

We Hitch an Awesome Ride by ariadnes_string - Rated G

Percy and his friends get a lift from some guys who might know as much about monsters as they do.

Five Times Percy Jackson Cheated At School by lammermoorian - Rated T

...And One Time Someone Cheated Him The story of how Percy chooses a major, gets a family, and accidentally becomes a superstar in the world of classical studies. Turns out, being able to read ancient Greek and instinctively knowing how to sail every ship ever invented is actually pretty useful in some fields.

percy jackson and the scrutiny of his coworkers by pqrker - Rated G

Jim turned back to the tank and looked at Marcie the seal, who was now staring at the spot his coworker had been standing just moments before with that same strange look of reverence in her eyes. Percy Jackson truly was the oddest person Jim Elpool had ever worked with. or 5 times percy's coworkers were confounded by his fish magic, plus 1 time they try to figure it out

The Boyfriend by Roselightfairy - Rated G

The cliche: Annabeth's private-school friend finds out that Annabeth has a boyfriend. The twist: This mortal already knows Percy Jackson, from long ago.

Not So Shore by bananannabeth - Rated G

Percy Jackson just transferred to AHS on a swimming scholarship, and Olivia is convinced that there's something weird about him. In order to get to the bottom of it, she decides to befriend him and his girlfriend, Annabeth, and drags her best friend Kelly along for the ride.

Gratuity At Twenty Percent by inkncoffee - Rated T

Amphitrite was no fool and she wouldn't be played for one. Not even by the lord of the sea himself. When Poseidon starts disappearing at night, Amphitrite investigates. She's not entirely sure if what she finds is better or worse than what she expected.

Deprivation by inkncoffee - Rated G

"Percy are you drunk?" Poseidon asked with a frown Or in which Percy hasn't slept in 72 hours and is surviving solely on Red Bull and blue M&Ms when Poseidon comes calling. Which is probably important, but Percy's brain stopped working twenty hours and seven Red Bulls ago so.

I hear babies cry by Eat0crow - Rated T

Percy's not adjusting well after the war. No matter what he tries, Camp Half-Blood just feels wrong. So, he decides to take off. Nico goes along for the ride.

Big Black Jelly Beans by Darkanny - Not Rated

Percy glared at him, pouting. He looked back at his dog as she chased after a bee. She was kinda bigger, he had to admit, but that didn’t mean anything, right? Granted, he didn’t really know where she went to most of the time, what with her shadow-travelling all the time. But when she was around he was very careful on feeding her healthy stuff…or the healthiest part of what was left on his plate anyway. She was not fat.

"the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room" by r1ptides - Rated G

“all I could think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room”

the jackson files by Ideasofmarch - Not Rated

Summary

Makin’ pancakes @makinbaconpancakes Does anyone know who the fuck Percy Jackson is??? Oranges are spicy @ronaldmcd Whomst? Makin’ pancakes @makinbaconpancakes Check rachel dares insta story Oranges are spicy @ronaldmcd k Oranges are spicy @ronaldmcd Okay somebody find out who this kid is right damn now. - Rachel Elizabeth Dare posts a video of Percy on her instagram story. it all just spirals from there.

family tree by r1ptides - Rated G

it's a goode tradition for freshmen to make a family tree for english class. percy struggles.

Please insert your (sand) dollar here by Sugarplume02 - Rated G

Percy just wants to pay for his Chips Ahoy with the sea dollar he got from his dad. Too bad it doesn't fit in vending machines.

The guy in line behind him just wants to pay for his Cheez-its.

The Problem With Field Trips by HopeLions13 - Rated T

Percy just knows things are going to go wrong when his eighth grade class takes a field trip to a dude ranch. They always do. OR How Percy got expelled from MS-54.

[tinybirbwrites]

The Ultimate Strategy (Astarion & Reader)

This is very silly. Set rather early on in the game. Nothing romantic, just silly and fun. Gender neutral reader, no use of y/n, sort of implied player!reader. Sort of graphical description of someone being set on fire? Not too graphic but it happens. 1,6k words.

People would often think you’re stupid—Astarion could tell by the way they looked at you or talked to you. He himself thought you weren’t the brightest of the bunch when he first met you. Ohh, but you weren’t stupid at all. Yes, maybe some logical thinking and some puzzles proved a challenge for you, and sometimes the subtext was too hidden for you to see, but you could read people quite well. You could tell when they were trying to fool you; there was always that little knowing smile on your lips and that glimmer in your eyes when you knew exactly what they were trying to do, and yet you went along anyway to humor them, only to beat them at their own game. 

Sometimes Astarion wondered whether you were a master diviner, someone who dreamed about the future every night, because he swore some things you knew shouldn’t be possible. He would see you buy or collect some strange item and think “how unnecessary,” only to be proven wrong a little while later. 

“Humor me,” he said to you one morning, making you look up from your bowl of leftover food from the evening before. “Why are we collecting these?” Astarion gestured over to the big pile of barrels, each either containing oil, smokepowder, or firewine. Quite hazardous, which is why it was being kept far away from Karlach’s tent. You had insisted on collecting each explosive item you could find and carry it back to camp, and because everyone had grown to trust you, no one argued. Because, just like Astarion, the other companions had also noticed your futuristic insight and fondness for ridiculous yet clever strategies. 

You beamed at him. “I’m so glad you asked, Astarion.” Putting your bowl down for the time being, you instead took a stick and drew some lines into the dirt. “Using your wonderful imagination for a moment here, you would see that this,” you tapped the middle of your drawing, “is the place right outside the grove. You know, where we first encountered the goblins that were attacking the tieflings and humans outside the gate.”

He tilted his head, then went to stand directly behind you to look over your shoulder. “I can sort of see it. What about it?”

“Well, my dear friend,” you turned your head and grinned up at him, waggling your eyebrows. “What if I told you that there will be a big confrontation, and we could easily solve it with the right means.” You nodded towards the barrels. “Just imagine; the whole field, full with explosive barrels. One little bolt of fire and they all go boom.”

Astarion imagined it, and yeah, okay, that sounded like fun alright. “And who are we blowing up, exactly?”

“The goblin army, of course,” you said, as if it was obvious. Noticing his frown, you quickly explained, “Everyone keeps talking about ‘the big goblin problem’ this and ‘the goblin camp’ that. Obviously there will be a confrontation at some point, and I just wanna be prepared for it. We’ll probably find out more once we go to the goblin camp ourselves.”

He raised an eyebrow, partly impressed, partly doubtful. “And, what? We just put barrels all over the field and hope they won’t notice and just walk right into the trap?”

You pursed your lips. “Okay, good point. Either we bury and hide the barrels, or we, uhh… Maybe we could put some illusion spell on them? Surely Gale knows a way.”

Astarion stared at you for a moment. “You’re only thinking about this now? You honestly thought the enemy wouldn’t notice—” he looked over at the pile and roughly estimated the quantity, “thirty-something explosive barrels standing around an open area?”

You cleared your throat and put the stick away to keep eating. “... Maybe. But, hey, thanks to you, we can prepare for it now. Thanks, Astarion.”

He could have made more indignant and snarky comments, could have teased you more, and usually he would have. But your smile was so earnest and genuine and bright, all he could do was make a small noise at the back of his throat and shake his head.

Turned out that Gale did indeed know some good spells to disguise the barrels, by putting an illusion on them to make people think they were something else, like a bush or a piece of wood or a big rock. After a few hours of setting everything up, you declared a job well done and that you all would infiltrate the goblin camp the very next day. 

Again, things worked out more smoothly than Astarion thought.

You’d revealed the grove’s location to the drow, Minthara, much to the other companions’ shock. When Karlach took you aside to question your decision, you had assured her that everything would be fine. “I planned for this, remember? It will all work out, trust me. They won’t step one foot into the grove, I won’t let them.”

Astarion personally didn’t really care either way—he had absolutely not grown fond of the tiefling refugees or any of their thieving children, thank you very much—but he was very much invested in your strange plan at this point.

So when the time came, tieflings and druids warned about the goblin army (with most of the refugees actually preparing for the fight, while the druids hid away like cowards inside the caves) and everyone stood up on the hill by the big horn, and you watched as at least a hundred goblins, big and small, together with their blood hungry pets marched up to the gate, you were confident. Perhaps even a little smug.

Minthara was on higher ground, the hill near the middle of the field, and Astarion remembered how you had insisted on carrying several barrels up there as well, fretting about their exact positions. Again, he was convinced you must have somehow known about this. This couldn’t be just a lucky guess or coincidence. 

Some of the goblins even carried little explosive barrels on their backs, which were lit up like a bomb as they ran towards the gate to blow it up. Before they could get any closer, you had already given Astarion the order to shoot the fucker down and let it explode next to one of your own hidden barrels. 

He held his breath, and everyone watched as the chaos unfolded so very beautifully. It was a wonderful and perfect chainreaction; one barrel exploded, immediately setting off the next, and then the next, the fire and explosions taking all of the goblins with it. Before Minthara could react, you quickly told Gale to throw a firebolt at one of the hidden barrels near her position as well. It hit, and Minthara was soon blown off the hill and hit the oil-covered ground. She screamed as she was burned alive, trying to put herself out and sort of succeeding. 

“Karlach, Wyll, can you take her?” you asked. 

“Thought you’d never ask,” Karlach growled, taking her greataxe in hand. 

“With pleasure,” Wyll nodded, drawing his own weapon. Again, under your command, they drank a Feather Fall potion to jump down, and Gale used some spells to put out the flames so neither of them would get burned to a crisp. They were resistant to fire, but not immune, and everyone knew you didn’t want your friends to get hurt. 

With fresh burns and wounds all over and her ears ringing from the explosions, Minthara could barely put up a fight. She tried, of course, and she did better than most in her position would have been able to. But with both Wyll and Karlach, still at full health and energized, she didn’t stand a chance. Merely a minute or two later, Minthara was dead. The tieflings cheered loudly, some patting you on the back while Astarion did his best to avoid the praise. The gate was opened to let Wyll and Karlach back inside, and you laughed as you were hugged and picked up by several people (sadly, Karlach still couldn’t touch anyone, otherwise she would have probably done the same). 

“That was incredible!” Zevlor laughed. “We barely even had to do anything, and not one of us got hurt!”

Later on, as you cleaned up the battlefield a little with some others, looting the goblin corpses, you eyed Minthara’s armor, then looked up at Astarion with a critical eye.

“What?” he asked, crossing his arms defensively. 

“Do you think this would fit your frame?” You gestured at the armor—it was rather beautiful, golden and dark gray, the shapes of the plates reminiscent of spiderwebs, fitting for a Lolth-sworn drow like her. 

“Maybe,” Astarion said slowly. “Why? You want me to wear it?”

You shrugged. “I think it would suit you nicely. If you want it, it’s all yours. Maybe Dammon could modify it a little if it doesn’t fit, before he leaves the grove.”

Astarion looked down at what he was wearing now—armor mostly made out of leather, good for stealth, but not the most fashionable, in his humble opinion. Then he looked back to Minthara’s corpse, humming thoughtfully. “Oh, by the Hells, why not? But I want it thoroughly cleaned, I can still smell the smoke and oil all over it.” 

You grinned. “It looks so good, right? I kept eyeing it when we first met her.” 

Reluctantly, Astarion relented. “Well, you’re not wrong.” Hesitantly, he asked, “You really think it will suit me?” He wasn’t self-conscious about his looks, of course. He just hadn’t seen his own reflection in quite some time, and he barely had any idea what colors suited him now. Though he supposed he was doing something right, because most people still swooned when they saw him—including even you.

You nodded eagerly. “Yes, trust me. Gold, silver, black, red, blue… all of it would suit you. I think you could make any color work, if done right. But this armor is just… perfect for you.”

Astarion did not blush—he wasn’t even sure if he physically could. But whatever the case, Astarion didn’t blush, ever, for anyone or anything. Absolutely not.

[tavs-tressym]

Delicious Denial - Chapter Two

(AO3 Link) | Master List

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Tav (You).

Word Count: 3240 (approx)

Tags: Fluff, eventual smut, domestic fluff, camp life, slow burn romance, sexual tension (A LOT), violence description.

WARNING: Contains violence description.

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A reimagining of the game's events if Tav had zero magical or fighting ability. But she's still pretty fucked up. 👍

(Lots of comforting camp life content.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Happy Monday!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Two - Six

The ground shakes beneath you as the boom of a war horn ravages the forest. You stand behind Minthara on a large boulder. There’s a small gathering of tieflings above the ivy-covered gate, and they don’t seem like powerful druids. Your heart plummets in guilt.

What have I done? These people… Gods, they’re barely even armoured… They’re all going to die…

Your mind continues swimming in panic. You scan the crowd of goblins, it’s clear to see that they’re outnumbered. They don’t stand a chance. A singular arrow darts towards you, Minthara swipes it to the side with effortless magical ability. “Blow that gate open! Now!” She commands. The goblins release their warcries. Some, carrying barrels of explosives, rush to the gate. Arrows rain from the sky and puncture as many foes as they can but it’s not enough. Through smoke and floating gunpowder, you can see the destruction of the gate. The grove is compromised. But before Minthara can give further command, you spot silhouettes amongst the wreckage. 

Six silhouettes, all different in stature and weight. A very odd-looking alliance, indeed. Minthara holds her tongue, waiting for them to reveal themselves so as to gauge this new enemy’s abilities. 

Weighted thumps on soil grow faster and louder as two of the silhouettes reveal themselves. A powerful, red tiefling, brandishing a greataxe with what looks to be living fire escaping her chest leaps forward, burning rage in her eyes. Then a skilled, female, githyanki warrior slicing through goblins with no hesitation and shaking off hits like they’re nothing. They make quick work of their foes, pushing the army back.

Behind them, a black-haired half-elf can be seen healing the injured with one hand and casting radiating destruction spells with the other.

Just as they’re beginning to feel overwhelmed by enemies, a ray of devastating lighting scorches the earth, electrocuting all goblins in it’s path. Your eyes follow it to the source, a human in a humble, purple robe, his eyes filled with determination and pride at his own magic.

The scorched goblins begin to twitch and spasm. You flick your gaze back to them, realising that they are dead no longer and are now fighting for the opposite side. By the gate, another human with a darker complexion, noble attire and a rapier in hand stands proudly, leading his new, undead army into battle.

That’s one, two, three, four, five… There were six… Weren’t there?

Minthara snarls and leaps into the centre of battle. Surrounded by these new, mighty enemies, she calls upon Lolth to aid her before attacking each foe with excellent precision and strength. You look around, frantically trying to keep up before realising… This is it. Your chance to escape. Your breath shudders as you slowly back away and once out of Minthara’s field of view, you run.

The makeshift shoes you were given start to rip and come apart beneath you with each desperate collision with the floor. You look back to ensure that you aren’t being followed, then you… Stop? The wind in your lungs is forced out of you as your back hits something solid. But that can’t be, there was nothing there, right? You feel a cold, hard, sharp sensation against your neck, your breath hitches. You try to wriggle free from whatever this is, but something strong holds you in place. In confusion and panic you go to let out a shriek before, yet again, you are stopped. A soft, smooth, cold texture contains the sound within your mouth. “Shh…” Suddenly the force around your mouth becomes opaque: a hand. The sensation on your neck: a dagger. The solid pressed firmly up against your back: A person.

Number six…

“If I move my hand, are you going to scream?” A male voice hums into your ear. You shake your head in response, there are no tears in your eyes, only fury.

You. Were. So. Close.

“Are you sure? I’d hate to ruin such a pretty neck…” His threats are theatrical, but you hear his earnesty and feel his eyes burning into your exposed skin. He allows the dagger to make a small, irritating cut on your neck to emphasise his point. Breathing comfortably would surely deepen the wound and seeing no way out, you give in and douse the fire inside of you, for now. You nod. He slowly removes his hand and you catch your first glimpse of him. His hand is pale and his nails are manicured. There is little hair and through his almost translucent skin, you see hints of dark veins. You feel his breath on your ear, it’s surprisingly warm for someone so cold.

His now free hand grips the plush skin of your arm and he moves the dagger to allow you to breathe as normal, but ensures that the threat remains. He guides you back to the, now quieter, battlefield. Minthara is on her knees, clutching her stomach, blood slipping through the gaps between her fingers. She coughs and gasps, lifting her head to see you, captured again. “T-true… S-soul…” Her words aren’t of sorrow, but of pride that you are still standing. She knows death will soon claim her, but you? You can finish her quest and bring glory to The Absolute. She grins. A greatsword’s blade, coated in thick red, is held beside Minthara’s neck. “Any last words, istik?” The githyanki sneers.

Minthara does not break her eye contact with you. “F-for… The Abso-” The sword traps her words in her throat forever, as it severs her head in one fell swoop. It rolls towards you, her now limp grin of devotion still smeared across her face.

You begin to breathe deeply… Heavily… You can’t breathe… You need air, now. You try to escape your captor’s grasp, you’re going to die, you’re sure of it. “Let her go!” The tiefling’s command frees your body and you feel your legs give out from underneath you. No matter how much air you suck into your lungs, you can only suffocate.

A warm, delicate hand rests on your back and rubs it in firm circles. “Breathe properly now. With me. In… And out…” A gentle, yet guarded voice attempts to guide you back to reality, but it isn’t working. The half-elf shrugs and looks to her companions for assistance, to which the githyanki scoffs and rolls her eyes. You rake your fingers through the soil, desperately trying to ground yourself when - Black. __________________________________________

How long has it been? Is this… Death? No, it feels too familiar. Sleep? It could be. It’s certainly peaceful… But it can’t be, mine doesn’t feel like this anymore. Mine is more… Restless… I haven’t felt like this in… Well, too long anyway…

No… Please don’t go…  Just a little longer… Please… __________________________________________

The world is fuzzy when seeing it through barely open eyes. Green sways above you, sheltering you from sharp lines of yellow light. Your eyes open further. It’s midday, same as before, as though no time has passed. How much time has passed? You begin to sit up to get your bearings. “Woah there soldier, take it easy.” You flinch at the voice and search, eyes wide for danger. It’s the tiefling from earlier. “It’s okay! It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” You huddle yourself into a ball, keeping your eyes on hers and shuffle away. She smiles with such warmth you almost feel tempted to let your guard down, almost. “The name’s Karlach, and you are?”

“What makes you think I’d tell you? Your friend held a dagger to my throat!” You force anger through your fear and surprisingly, Karlach seems to understand. She sighs and nods, rubbing her face. “I know, I’m sorry. I wish there was no need for it, but you have to understand, we don’t know what we’re dealing with here. Before we can trust you and let you go, we need to know who you are.” You know better than to trust promises of freedom, but then you look around. 

You seem to have found yourself in a humble camp, surrounded by one-person tents, hardly a prison. An unlit campfire stands in the centre and your captors are idly going about their business. All of them you recognise, all except one. A lean, pale elf with white, well kept curls meticulously arranged on his head. He stands, reading a book amongst neighbouring silk cushions that are scattered around the entrance of his tent. There’s even a stool right next to him, but he chose to stand. Weird. Watching him turn the page, you notice his familiar hands. You grit your teeth and furrow your brow. That’s the fucker that caught you.

Flicking your eyes back to Karlach, you can see how desperately she wants you to cooperate. You check your ankles and wrists, there are no restraints. “How long was I out for?” You ask in a dull, numb voice.

“A day.”

You nod, realising how energised you feel, a rare occurrence for you. “And… How?” Although you’re grateful for the rest, the last thing you remember was clawing at the ground, not exactly a bedtime routine. 

“Oh… Ha ha… Well…” She gestures to her head sheepishly, you place your hand on yours and jolt at the sudden pain, a bandage covers a gnarly bump on the right side of your head, then the headache hits you. “Ugh… Gods…” You rub your eyes but doing so only produces stars, you lay back down.

“Yeah, sorry about that too, soldier.” You hear approaching footsteps, but moving to protect yourself right now would be too painful.

“So, she’s awake at last… What now?” Asks a gentle, male voice. You try to peer through the stars to see which companion it is. You see… Purple. This must be the wizard.

“Yes, what now, indeed? Shall I get my tools and see what information I can get out of her?” You recognise this as the familiar voice of the half-elf.

“With all due respect, Shadowheart, I think she’s a bit… Out of it. Maybe adding more pain into the mix isn’t such a good idea.”

“Alright, what do you suggest?” She asks, clearly disappointed and irritated.

“You could start by sparing some magic and healing that wound on her head. She can’t even speak.” Shadowheart sighs and reluctantly casts Cure Wounds, your vision clears and the pain subsides.

Thank the Gods…

Finding your strength, you sit up once again and your eyes meet the wizard’s. His features are soft, kind, though you suppose looks can always be deceiving. “Welcome back. Now, let’s cut to the chase. You don’t trust us, we don’t trust you, that much is clear. But, we can help each other. And I’ll get into the ‘how’ of it all soon enough, but for now, I’ll settle for your name. I’m Gale, of Waterdeep.” He reaches his hand out to shake yours. You inspect it, searching for trickery, then you look at his face. He has a friendly, inviting smile and you sense no ulterior motive. You take his hand and shake it gently. “Tav.”

“Tav! Excellent.” Once you let go, he claps his hands and turns to his companions. “This is Shadowheart, our fierce cleric.” He gestures towards her, she forces a smile but unsuccessfully hides her distaste for the introduction. “And you’ve met Karlach.” She waves at you excitedly, seeming proud of you for opening up, just a little. She emanates friendliness, you can’t help but smile back. “Let’s see… That’s Lae’Zel, our resident githyanki.” He points her out, upon hearing her name, she looks over, sees you and immediately scoffs before returning to her task. “Over here we have Wyll, ‘The Blade of…” 

“The Blade of the Frontiers, at your service.” The one who bent the dead to his will approaches and performs a grand bow. “My lady.” You raise an eyebrow.

Is this guy for real?

You smile and nod politely. You take in his features as he raises his head. Brown skin, facial scars and one eye seemingly made of stone. Intriguing…

“And last but… Eh… not least, Astarion. The stealthiest of the bunch.” He doesn’t look up from his book, he just makes a vague, waving, hand gesture. You raise an eyebrow again, but this time you make no effort to conceal your judgement.

“Yes, I remember.” Just as you’re about to look away, you spot a smirk on his face. The prick.

“So, now that we’re all well acquainted, maybe now you could tell us everything you know about this ‘Absolute’, yes?” Gale looks at you expectantly.

“Hold on, you said we could help each other. What am I getting out of this?” The companions exchange worried glances before Karlach takes over.

“Well that all depends on your answers to our questions, soldier.” She looks at you apologetically.

“Seriously? You want me to give you all this information for the mere chance that you could give me something in return? Yeah, no thanks.” A moment of tension passes.

“We know what’s in your head and we have them too!” The words practically burst out of Karlach’s mouth, to everyone’s disapproval. Gale brings his hands to his head, eyes wide in disbelief at Karlach’s lack of control, Shadowheart essentially slaps her hand into her face, holding it there in disappointment, and Wyll just pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing deeply, shaking his head. You get the slight feeling that you weren’t supposed to know that.

“You don’t mean…”

“Yes, that little worm in your skull. We all have one.” Shadowheart admits in defeat.

“How did you…?”

“Minthara, she called you True Soul. That seems to be the name for people like us.” Gale explains. “However, none of us have succumbed to ceremorphosis yet, nor are we under this ‘Absolute’s’ control. We want to understand why. Any information you can give us would be greatly appreciated.” You listen intently, his explanation that only fills your mind with further questions. You ask about ‘ceremorphosis’ and process the definition.

“I’m sorry, what now? You’re-… I’m-… We’re turning into MIND-FLAYERS?!”

“No- well, maybe? We aren’t quite sure. All we know is that our infection has been highly irregular thus far.”

Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?! Interesting how Minthara left that fucking detail out!

“In any case, we’re searching for a cure. Please, if you know anything, anything at all, we need all the help we can get.” Gale pleads.

“And soldier, you do too.” You look up at Karlach who’s smile alone brings you down from another episode. You take a deep breath.

“A-alright…” You go on to describe your experience in the goblin camp and repeat all the information that Minthara shared with you during your time there. As you reach the point in the story of the ‘interrogation’, you are… selective with the details. Choosing to describe your actions through the eyes of a mere, horrified spectator rather than the confused, active participant you truly were. Astarion’s mouth twitches at your story as he cocks his head to the side. He seems intrigued. Too intrigued. The others listen and nod thoughtfully as you speak.

Once finished, they stand there in silence, processing. You search their faces, hoping to catch a glimpse of what their judgement of you will be. Gale breaks the silence: “Just a moment.” He gathers all companions, including Astarion and Lae’zel around the campfire, just out of earshot from you. You watch as each one has a turn to speak, occasionally glancing at you before returning to the conversation. It’s a passionate discussion between very strong personalities, it’s a wonder how they’ve remained allies for longer than a day. Eventually, you see nods of agreement, some begrudging and some pleased as they all turn and walk towards you.

Gale steps forward and attempts a formal speech pattern: “So… Tav, was it? We… we cannot, in good conscience, leave you to the, er- aforementioned fate. And so, we would like to extend an invitation to accompany us on our journey, as we search for a cure. What do you think?” You think for a moment, feeling all six pairs of eyes on you.

You sigh as you come to the realisation that you don’t have much choice. It’s either this, or ceremorphosis. You nod, yet still feel their unsure gaze. You give in and say the words: “Yes, alright. I’ll join you.”

You feel your companions relax… mostly. Lae’zel isn’t hiding how displeased she is with the arrangement before she leaves to tend to her collection of weaponry. Your stomach growls, no, roars. Loudly. It’s been over twenty-four hours and you haven’t had a single bite to eat. Karlach chuckles “You know what, mate? Me too. Gale, dinner time!” She taps her tummy as she follows Gale to the makeshift food station. Shadowheart leaves to light the campfire and Wyll smiles at you before helping her.

That’s one, two, three, four, five… and six.

Astarion stood, resting his weight on one hip, watching you. You look up at him, making eye contact. The slight warmth you feel towards your newfound companions grows colder once he is in your view. A brief look becomes a fight for dominance, neither party willing to lose. “Can I help you?” Your voice is laced with contempt, yet the only effect you have on him is widening his insufferable grin. He holds you in suspense for a moment before speaking.

“You don’t like me.” His tone is playful, flirty even.

“Hard to. First impressions are everything.” You slide yourself off the stone slab you used as a bed to face him properly, trying to regain control.

“Oh darling, you know I only did that because I had to.” He laughs and tilts his head down, intensifying his gaze, effortlessly. He steals a glance at the small cut on your neck, the corner of his mouth twitches in the thrill of knowing that he put it there. “But enough about the past. You’re one of us now, we should be… Acquainted. Don’t you agree?” You fold your arms and allow him to continue under the weight of your suspicious stare. “Well, I don’t know about you, but the idea of waking up to a dagger lodged in my chest doesn’t sound particularly appealing.”

“You’re not scared of me, are you?” You smirk back at him, unfolding your arms and finding your wide hips before resting on them with your hands. He steps closer and speaks softer.

“No, not scared. I just don’t trust those who withhold the truth.” Your smirk drops and your mind races.

What does he know? How could he know? No, this is stupid, there’s no way…

“Oh don’t worry darling, I would have trusted you even less if you had laid, whatever it is, bare for us all to see. That’s why I voted to let you stay.” You raise an eyebrow in surprise. “And just so you know, I didn’t tell the others.”

“Why not? What loyalty do you have to me?”

“Oh, absolutely none, my dear… But, you never know when an ally might be useful.” He chuckles to himself, tucking his hair behind his pointed ear.

“You’re a smug one, aren’t you?”

“Hmm… Some say smug, some say charming, it’s all the same really when you get what you want. So… Allies?” He leans in, expecting an agreeable reply. You scoff at his audacity before rolling your eyes and giving him what he wants.

“Allies.”

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[guiltygearconfessions]

dnd 5e builds for base strive cast (+ goldlewis!)

Sol: either an Artificer (Battlesmith) w a Barbarian (Totem) dip where his Steel Defender is his bike and Elk/Bear rage is dragon install OR a Wizard (Bladesinger) with a belt (headband) of giant strength and Tasha's Otherworldy Guise as his DI

Ky: Hexbalde Warlock w a Battlemaster Fighter dip since he seems charismatic and his patron cld be the Thunderseal. His manouevres: Trip (Stun Dipper), Lunge (Foudre Arc), Riposte (Vapor Thrust). Meanwhile, Eldritch Blast = Stun Edge, Booming Blade = Dire Eclat, can blow his limited spell slots on Lightning Bolt (Sacred Edge) or Hasted Booming Blades + Relentless Hex or just Thunder Step (RTL). Possibly take a sorc (Storm) dip or the Metamagic Adept feat to transmute spell and change his damage types to lightning + gain flying speed.

May: Ranger (Beastmaster) for sea animal shenanigans. Possible dips into Paladin (Devotion, to the Jellyfish Pirates) or Fighter (Cavalier) for mounted combat features and bonuses (e.g. Find Greater Steed)

Axl: Ranger (Horizon Walker) + Monk (Kensei)/Fighter (Battlemaster). The boring and "correct" answer here is pure bladesinger wiz using a flavoured whip for the Time Stop spell, but the teleportation offered by Horizon Walker and the idea of slipping between planes of existence seems flavourful. Ranger features also have a bit more trap laying flavour. Monk bonuses for movement speed + unarmoured defense to remain slippery while dressing casual.

Chipp: Monk (Shadow) with the Fey Touched and Shadow Touched feats for access to Shadow Teleport + Misty Step + Shadow Blade and maybe a small spellcaster dip into Sorcerer (Shadow) if only to get Quickened Spell for ninja flavour + Mirror Image (multiple Chipps!)

Potemkin: although a pure Fighter (Champion) is tempting, the 4 attacks per turn feels at odds w the slower, lumbering idea of Potemkin. Instead I propose DM fiat to allow smiting while Unarmed, then build Potemkin as a Variant Human (base feat used to learn Unarmed Fighting style) with full Paladin (Glory or Redemption). His devotion and larger than life presence give him moral power behind his blows which are weighty (big ass smites) but infrequent (2 per turn). The other athleticism, tanky abilities come from his Paladin subclass features. Spells like Command and Compelled Duel reflect his intimidating presence and ability to control the field. Spells like Thunderous Smite and Destructive Wave reflect his sheer terrain-altering strength. Feats could include Grappler, Tavern Brawler, Tough.

Faust: Pure Wild Magic Sorcerer or an even split btwn Wild Magic Sorc and Life Cleric. Dimension Door/Misty Step for teleports. Items could represent by: Meteors (Minute Meteors), Bomb (Delayed Blast Fireball), 100T Weight (Earth Tremor/Earthquake), Donut/Banana (Healing Word/Cure Wounds), Afro (reflavoured Web since its also a control debuff that turns into damage after fire exposure), Minifaust (so many summon spells but I like the idea of Guardian of Faith from Cleric), Trumpet (Insect Plague), Hammer (Catapult). And then Haste can be used with Quickened Spell to simulate item throw super. Tack on a couple fighter levels perhaps to Action Surge and emulate the 100 tension version + give some oomph to the occasional scalpel normal.

Millia: not base dnd but i think she fits a Blood Hunter (Lycan) pretty well. The flavour of undergoing a dangerous and forbidden procedure for power, the hair transformations... probably uses Rite of the Oracle (psychic) and Blood Curse of Binding (tandem top) to hold enemies in place for devastating up close "mixups" while still remaining highly mobile.

Zato: Fighter (Echo Knight) w a Monk (Long Death) dip (or, potentially, Undead Warlock). Fragile but frequently summonable puppet fighter w a Monk dip for the "unarmoured melee fighter" vibe + undying flavour or Warlock dip for more spell slinging vibe+ access to flight spells.

Ramlethal: taking a bit more from her Xrd incarnation, a mixed Cleric (Twilight) for access to Spiritual Weapon for the "remote/hovering sword" + a hover/fly movement rather than regular walking and a Warlock (Hexblade) with the Eldritch Smite invocation to burn spell slots for chunky damage that knocks enemies flat on their asses (Mortobato).

Leo: Rogue (Swashbuckler ) + Barbarian (Totem). Probably a Tiger/Elk Barb for the movement speed and the animalistic vibe, while the Rogue levels and Swashbuckler features give the idea of a speedy duelist who occasionally snipes out big damage hits from "converting" movement speed based mixups. (also Swashbucklers benefit from Charisma, which leo definitely has since hes led so many soldiers to their deaths 🥰)

Nago: Fighter (Samurai). I think a majority of Nago's features and design are reflected in this subclass- the idea of a fighter who takes a slow and measured approach while occasionally bursting into a flurry of sudden violence. The high level Samurai feature of taking another turn upon getting dropped also kind of feels like Nago blood rage- a last second gambit at the verge of defeat type of deal.

Gio: Monk (Astral Self). Gio's features as an unarmed, unarmoured, mobile fighter w a not-quite animal spirit are perfectly encapsulated in this subclass, down to her appearance transformations at high tension

Anji: Bard (Swords) with Fighter (Battlemaster) dip and the Dual Wielder feat. Swords Bard explains his armoured twirl (Defensive Flourish) and other more magical effects like the butterfly, koi, and his cinematic super. Battlemaster Trip (rekka low), Push (corner carry off fuujin), Sweep (spinny spins), Parry/Riposte (dedicated counters).

I-No: Oddly enough i dont think she's a pure bard. If anything, I think her style seems more offense oriented than support, so she probably has way more Sorcerer (storm) levels for flying and her other magic shit. For her Bard dip, probably a Whispers bard to play into her role as a mysterious and menacing antagonist figure.

Goldlewis: Paladin (Watchers) with a Warlock (GoO) dip. Watchers paladins already deal w abberations and aliens, and his smites could be flavoured as his big behemoth typhoons/down with the system. Warlock spells and blast reflect the gadgets stored by his alien.

Wow! Points for being so thorough! This is cool